


A Change is Gonna Come - Part One: Highway Tune

by Emi_theSassiestSousa



Series: A Change is Gonna Come [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Case Fic, Developing Relationship, Dramatic Irony for Everyone, Everyone swears like the sailors they were meant to be, Except Ash but he's not here., F/M, How many monsters? So many., M/M, Off-screen Child Death, Possible Drowning Triggers, Sam gets his own storyline, Sammy doesn't know, Season "Things That Look Like Other Things" 13, Season "What Is a Monster Really?" 13, Show-Levels of Violence, Strangers to Ex-Wife, Strangers to Lovers, Supernatural: Everyone Is Suffering. Everyone., Using your words, angel!cas - Freeform, canon adjacent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-18 04:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14204835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emi_theSassiestSousa/pseuds/Emi_theSassiestSousa
Summary: “So get this, more than twenty people have died or disappeared in Illinois in the past month. In Elgin there's four bodies drained of blood with their ears and noses missing, eight children have drowned at a county preserve just north of that, and there's been a string of unexplained disappearances from boats in the Chain of Lakes just north ofthat.Four more people were mauled up in Antioch— all of them claiming to have seen gigantic creatures, like, the size of cars— and the cherry on top of all this: a whole slew of married women have gone missing in the area. It's an absolute explosion of weird cases up there.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends, and welcome to my most ambitious project yet! Spanning multiple full stories and ficlets alike, and maybe even a few crack comics if I can figure that out (Update, figured it out. Protip: get a flickr account!), this series is gonna go through an alternate version of the second half of Season 13 and eventually an alternate Season 14. I'm not even kidding, I've got an entire second plot arc sketched out already. So hit that Series or Author Subscribe button, 'cause this is gonna be a LONG ride.  
> (PSA: Subscribing to this fic will *not* get you series updates. You need to subscribe to the Series or my Author page for those updates.)  
> \- Here at the beginning of the series, this MotW story diverges after 13x13 and the series will flirt across the bar with canon from here on out.  
> -Sorry for any confusion on the title of this piece, it was originally posted under 'Meet on the Ledge,' but that title fit Part Five perfectly and 'Highway Tune' is much better here. Fun with a WIP, amiright?  
>   
> Alrighty, without further ado, I present Part One: Highway Tune!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> {{A Change is Gonna Come - Lyrics Excerpt}}  
>  _I was born by the river,_  
>  _In a little tent,_  
>  _And just like the river, baby,_  
>  _I've been runnin' ever since,_
> 
> _It's been a long,_  
>  _Long time comin',_  
>  _And I know,_  
>  _Change is gonna come..._
> 
>  
> 
> {{Highway Tune}}  
>  _No stoppin' at the green light girl,_  
>  _'Cause I want to get your signal,_  
>  _No goin' at the green light girl,_  
>  _'Cause I want to be with you now,_  
>  _You are my special,_  
>  _You are my special,_  
>  _You are my midnight, midnight, yeah,_
> 
> _So sweet, so fine, so nice, oh my!_  
>  _My-my, my-my, ohh,_  
>   
>  _No stoppin' on the highway, girl,_  
>  _'Cause I want to burn my gas,_  
>  _There's one girl that I know,_  
>  _I'm never gonna pass,_  
>  _She is my special,_  
>  _She is my special,_  
>  _She is my midnight, midnight, yeah..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter One is dedicated to [Threshie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshie), who's prompts caught my eye and really got me into writing in the first place, and has become a most wonderful friend.

“...Geez, you're right Cas, the kid sounds just like Jim Morrison,” Dean said as he held the set of headphones plugged into the laptop up to his ear.

Cas nodded in the seat next to him, “After the man who sounded like Mr. Osborne I think we have a pattern forming.”

Sam entered the library and approached them at the table, his own open laptop in hand. “What're you guys looking at?”

“Doppelganger bands,” Cas answered, as though that was enough of an explanation.

“We keep finding these new bands that sound just like classic rock groups. It's freaky, man, way beyond cover-band level,” Dean translated. He turned to gauge Sam's reaction and noticed the laptop. “You got somethin’ there?”

“Yeah,” Sam pulled out a chair and sat at the table with them, spinning his laptop to show them the news articles he had pulled up. “So get this, more than twenty people have died or disappeared in Illinois in the past month. In Elgin there's four bodies drained of blood with their ears and noses missing, eight children have drowned at a county preserve just north of that, and there's been a string of unexplained disappearances from boats in the Chain of Lakes just north of _that_. Four more people were mauled up in Antioch— all of them claiming to have seen gigantic creatures, like, the size of cars— and the cherry on top of all this: a whole slew of married women have gone missing in the area. It's an absolute explosion of weird cases up there.”

“Well, damn,” Dean said, closing his laptop as he stood from the table, "sure sounds like a job to me. Let’s leave in an hour. Pack heavy, sounds like we might be there a while.”

 

———

 

Dean was just finishing putting his clothes in his bag when Cas knocked on his doorframe. Dean glanced up at him before returning to his bag.  “Hey, man, what’s up? Missing something?”

“Well—” Cas stopped, paused, then started again, “Do we have time for this case? Don't we need to help Donatello?”

“Donatello is fine, Cas, he goes out for wings, he comes back, he works on the tablet. We have a crowd of people dead, missing, or mauled here.”

Cas shifted uncomfortably in the doorway.

“Cas...” Dean sighed. He left his bag to cross the room to him, dropping a hand on his shoulder. “I told you, we’re gonna find Mom and Jack. We’re gonna find Lucifer. We’ll stop that other Michael. But right now we don't have anything to work off of. You just gotta hang in there, okay?”

Cas nodded, but he continued to shift on his feet.

Dean sighed again. “What else?” he asked, squeezing Cas's shoulder.

Cas stilled his shuffling, as if catching himself and forcing himself to stop. “It's unimportant. Nevermind.”

“No, no, man, come on," Dean gripped tighter as Cas tried to pull away, "I don't want a surprise halfway through this hunt.“

Cas looked at the floor, then back up to Dean. “We’re not... finished with the doppelganger case, are we?”

Dean's face brightened with a relieved smile. “‘Course not, Cas, I told you, it’s just on the backburner while we work on other things.”

“Right.” Cas managed a tiny smile in return. "Of course."

With a nod, Dean released his shoulder and went back to his bag. Then he pointed a finger at Cas, “Oh, hey, you still got your FBI badge?”

“Of course,” Cas answered. He pulled it out of his coat.

“Great—” Dean did a double take, “Wait, you do?”

“Of course I do,” Cas raised an eyebrow.

“But it shoulda burned with—” Dean stopped abruptly, and shook his head. “Sorry, that's ah... that's great Cas,” he said with a small smile, "that's real great." He turned back to his bag and shoved the last of his clothes into it.

Cas continued to stand in the doorway.

“I’ll just... go finish packing,” he finally said, and he left.

Dean only spared a moment to wonder what Cas could need to pack, because soon he was fully concerned with the arduous decision of which weapons he should bring from his bedroom wall.

He ended up packing a second duffel. Who knew what they were going to find on this crapshoot of a case?

 

~*~*~*~

 

The ride to northern Illinois was long and uneventful. That is, until Cas offered to show Sam the bands they had been investigating. Dean insisted that they didn’t even have a way to play the songs over the car's speaker, so why bother.

“You  _could_  listen if you’d just let me install a better stereo,” Sam snarked.

“You’ll touch that stereo over my dead body.”

*Already did,* Sam mumbled.

Dean turned a vicious glare on him, causing Sam to jump back. "Wait, sorry, I—"

Dean turned back to the road without a response.

The next hour was spent in silence.

 

~*~*~*~

 

They decided to investigate the blood-drained bodies first and move north from there. The Impala rumbled into town in the evening, the autumn sun already hanging low in the sky. They crossed over the Fox River on one of the few bridges for miles and snaked through the tight downtown streets to the police station, intending to meet with the coroner. The last blood-drained body had shown up a week ago, but there was a chance it had been held back for further investigation.

The coroner was a nice man who barely glanced at their badges. “Thought I’d see you guys sooner," he said with a smile, "this is the fifth identical case, now. I’m startin’ to think it’s a serial killer or somethin’. Boat motors just don’t do this to people."

“The fifth case?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, another one just came in today. The Sheriff has decided these people are gettin’ run over by boats, but it doesn’t make any sense. Propellers don’t exactly go for the face, y’know?”

The coroner pulled out a drawer holding a middle-aged white man. Just like the other victims the papers had mentioned, his nose and ears were missing and he was extremely pale, even for a corpse.

“Welp, I’ll leave you to it," the coroner said. "Oh, and make sure you take a look at his back. Weird laceration there.”

They thanked him as he left and the three of them turned their attention to the body.

“Well those ears were definitely gnawed off,” Dean said right away.

“Could a fish do that?" asked Sam, "I’m not sure if they even have predatory fish in the river that runs through town, but—"

“They do,” Cas answered, leaning unnervingly close to the man’s head to inspect the wounds, “but this was not the work of a fish.”

“Do you know what it was?” asked Dean.

“Maybe. Flip him over.”

The ‘weird laceration’ was impossible to miss. It was a circular mark about a foot in diameter with radiating gouges throughout.

“Wow, that— that looks like a leech bite,” Sam said, looking to Cas.

“Exactly,” said Cas. “Giant leeches. Rare in North America. In fact, I thought they had gone extinct after you polluted all of your waterways over the last two centuries.”

“Thing must be ten feet long with a bite like that,” Dean remarked.

“Yes, the Cherokee referred to them as The Great Leeches of Tlanusi’yi. The European settlers who prayed for deliverance from their wrath simply called them ‘hellspawn.’ They… weren’t quite as creative.”

“Alright, how do we find ‘em and how do we kill ‘em?”

“They’re literally just giant leeches,” Cas shrugged, “I assume there’s not a special process to it.”

“We’ll double-check the lore tonight,” Sam said.

They slid the body back into its drawer, thanked the coroner on their way out, and headed off to find a motel for the night.

 

———

 

Unfortunately, once they started digging, they soon realized the lore wasn’t going to be very helpful here.

“How does something like a giant leech have _one freaking legend_ about it?” Dean complained yet again. “Are you telling me the Cherokee were the only people to ever notice giant fucking leeches on the whole goddamn continent?”

“I told you they were rare.”

“Sure, Cas, but what are leeches that were only ever seen in the Carolinas doing in Illinois?”

“I don’t know.”

Dean sighed. “Rhetorical question, Cas."

 _“However it's here,”_ Sam cut in, “we’ll find them tomorrow. The legend implies it hunts people on the shoreline, so I’m thinking we head upriver, find a good spot, and just wait for it to show.” Sam shut his laptop and reached for his bag to get ready for bed.

“I’ll find an ideal location for an ambush while you sleep," Cas offered.

“Yeah, thanks, man,” Dean clapped him on the shoulder as he headed to the bathroom to get ready himself.

 

~*~*~*~

 

The clock read midnight. Sam’s quiet snores floated through the room, but Dean’s were conspicuously absent. Cas stood from his chair and crossed the room, coming to sit on the edge of Dean’s bed.

“You’re awake, Dean,” he murmured.

Dean sighed. He shifted around to look over his shoulder at Cas. “Yeah, woke up. Got some stuff on my mind.”

Cas waited for Dean to continue.

“It’s just… It's good to have you back, you know?”

It was too dark for Dean to see the way Cas’s lips twitched in the corners.

“I know Jack is still missing, and Mom, but it’s still really good to have the three of us back together, man. I mean, you picked up on the leech thing right away. That would have taken me and Sam at least a day to figure out.”

Castiel’s lips were no longer twitching.

“I’m just— Sam and I, we’re just glad you’re back.”

“I’m glad to be back,” Castiel answered, just a little more flatly than usual.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

Castiel winced. “No. Nothing new anyway.”

“Right. M’sure you miss Jack. We’ll find him, Cas,” Dean rolled over and got comfy again. “‘Night, Cas.”

Castiel stood and returned to his chair.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

 

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

 

Bonus Scene:

 

The next morning, as they gathered their supplies for the hunt, Dean noticed a new paper bag amongst their pile of duffels. There was a logo hand-stamped on the side that looked like— unless Dean was losing his eyesight already— it looked like _octopus_ tentacles wrapping around clockwork gears. He cautiously peeked inside, already suspecting witchcraft.

“Wait— Why do we have a bag of string?” he asked.

“It’s yarn,” Cas corrected.

“Uh-huh.” Dean raised his eyebrows. “And _why_ do we have a bag of yarn?”

“I bought it.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “What, last night?” He eyed the logo again. “Where?”

“There’s a yarn shop downtown.”

“And they were open at two in the morning.”

“It was one in the morning and I left money on the counter.”

Dean just sighed and returned to his own bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For that one person who's curious, the yarn shop is called Elgin Knit Works and they are just the loveliest people. If you're into fiber art in the area, I can't recommend them enough. They helped me find the perfect yarn for my wedding shrug and it came out amazingly thanks to them.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning they drove north from the town of Elgin to the spot Cas had found: an abandoned, overgrown, postage-stamp of a woodland at a bend in the river. They hiked in with their gear, pushing through the dense, tangled underbrush to hunker down at the water’s edge and wait for their leech to show.

Empty hours passed without a peep from the river. Nothing new for a hunt, so they filled the time with idle chatter. Eventually, the conversation turned to the next leg of the case.

“None of the other news stories mentioned the kinds of wounds these leeches inflict,” Sam said. “Think we're dealing with more than one monster?”

“The articles about the maulings described those creature as large, but also covered in sleek fur. These leeches are not furry,” said Cas.

"Oh, god, furry leeches." Dean shuddered. “Yeah, those people still have their faces and their blood, too. The monster up there just tore ‘em up real good. Not the same M.O. It's probably something else.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “I just said that, Dean.”

“I— Whatever.” Dean got up from his seat on a log, stretching his back and rolling his neck. He stepped forward to crouch beside the eroded riverbank and dipped his hand in the water. “So what would cause an bunch of river monsters to show up at once?”

“Angry god?” Cas suggested.

“Vengeful naiads?” offered Sam.

“What’s a naiad again?” Dean asked.

“A type of nymph," answered Sam. "Greek. Live in bodies of water.” 

“Right, right.... Don’t remember nymphs controlling other monst—” Dean looked out over the water and stood. “Hey, heads up, eleven o-clock.”

About twenty feet away, the water had begun to churn, bubbling like a boiling pot.

“That’s it,” Cas said as he stood, blade already in hand, “watch out for the water jet.” 

"The water j—?"

A geyser of roiling water shot straight into the air, cutting Dean off with a fountainous roar. Then it shifted, tilting at them and sweeping the shoreline. Sam and Cas were ready and jumped out of the way, but Dean’s foot caught on a fallen branch, and he hit the ground with a grunt. Quick action at least kept his gun dry, tucked against his chest as he fell. Dean scrambled up, kneeling in the muddy leaves, and whipped around to take aim.

As expected, a gigantic leech— at _least_ ten feet long— shot from the water intending to snatch its prey. Dean's finger tensed on the trigger, but he didn't even get a round off before Cas was on it, leaping right from the bank to catch it around the middle. With a single upward slash he gutted the leech from middle to head, and it crashed back into the water, dead.

Sam and Dean rushed to the shoreline as Cas got to his feet again, now standing knees-deep in the water, absolutely soaked with muck, blood, and leech-goo.

“Huh. That was easy,” said Dean.

Cas narrowed his eyes at him.

“Think we’re lucky enough there'd only be one?” asked Sam.

His answer was delivered courtesy of the river, in the form of another patch of bubbles just a few yards away.

Cas’s eye roll pulled his whole body around as he once again readied his blade.

They took turns at the shoreline drawing the leeches out one by one. By the time the sun began to set, ten humongous bodies clogged the shoreline.

“So," Sam started, "who’s up for a bonfire?” 

“You gotta be kidding me!" Dean spun on him, "Those things must weigh a ton each!”

Cas approached the nearest leech and touched two fingers to it. A second passed, before a disturbing, humming sound began to emanate from the carcass.

Dean ducked. Sam wasn’t as quick.

The carcass exploded. Blood and goo rained over them all, chunks of leech catching on branches, squelching on the ground, and splashing back into the water. 

“Holy fuck—!" “Shit!” 

Cas looked up from his handiwork to see the brothers drenched in gore— Sam desperately pulling globs out of his hair, while Dean just looked visibly pained.

“Sorry,” he rumbled. He climbed onto the shoreline and tapped their foreheads, disappearing the mess along with their scrapes and bruises. “You can wait by the car, I’ll finish here.”

Sam whirled and practically jogged back to the car, leaving Dean and Cas to watch him go.

A beat passed where they both said nothing. Then Dean snorted. Cas turned to him just as Dean’s face split with a grin and a howling, strained laugh.

“Oh my god, did you see his _face?_ ” he clapped Cas on the back. “Did you _see_ his _face!?_ Oh my god, Cas—!” he doubled over, laughing so hard he had to hold onto Cas’s shoulder for support.

"Um—" Cas tried.

“Oh god, _oh god,”_ Dean squeaked, unable to breathe properly. He shook Cas’s shoulder from his position, “Oh my god that was amazing!” and finally drew back up, whipping his face to the sky and taking a deep breath.  _"_ _Hhooo_ my god, that was awesome.”

He tipped his face toward Cas, giving him the biggest, dopeyest smile,  _“Ahh,_ don’t ever change, buddy. Don't ever change.”

With that he dropped his hand and strolled off to the car, snagging two of the duffels on the way out. Cas watched him leave, picking through the underbrush with a spring in his step.

A warm feeling tugged at Cas’s chest.

He quickly quashed it and forced himself to return to the mess at hand, even as something in him knew, just  _knew,_ that that smile was going to haunt him for a very, very long time.

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

Bonus scene:

 

When Dean reached the car Sam was already spreading hand sanitizer over the entirety of his forearms.

“Hey, save some for me,” Dean huffed. Sam tossed the little bottle over the roof. “Not enough Purell in the world…” Dean said as he caught it, despite the smirk still pulling at his lips.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to [Mittens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenWraith/pseuds/MittenWraith), the first meta writer I ever found, my first author crush, and the one who set me on the path to learn more about literary interpretation in four months than I did in 8 years of English classes.

The next day Sam and Dean dressed in their suits, and the three of them drove up to the town of Trout Valley where eight children had drowned at the nearby Fox Bluff Conservation Area. Dean split them up— Sam on his own and Cas with Dean— and they headed out to interview the victims’ parents.

As they climbed the porch of their first family’s home, Dean reminded Cas, “Alright, this is Mr. and Mrs. Karim and Jane Ike. Their sons drowned last month.”

Cas stared straight ahead. He stood a little too stiffly and held his jaw a little too tight.

Dean paused, his fist raised to knock. “What's up, man?”

“Nothing, Dean," he answered flatly, "I’m fine."

“Bullshit.”

“It’s nothing. We need to interview the witnesses.”

Dean dropped his hand and turned to face him fully, “No, Cas, tell me what’s up,” he said, his words full of concern, tinged with only a hint of frustration.

Cas rolled his eyes. He stared at the door a moment longer before answering, “It would be faster if we split up."

"We did split up."

"You and I," Cas said. He looked down at the porch. "You still don't trust me to do interviews.”

Dean winced, “No, dude, that's not—”

“I understand why, Dean.”

"I—" Dean sighed and closed his eyes, “Cas, it's just been a while.”

“I was fine in Dodge City.”

"Well—" Dean paused. He nodded and tipped his head in resigned agreement, “Yeah, you were, you did pretty okay.”

Cas’s lips twitched at the small compliment.

Dean definitely saw it. “Hey, I know,” he lit up, pointing a finger at Cas, “Why don’t you take lead on this?”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Dean turned back and knocked on the door, “You take lead, and I’ll be right here behind you.”

Dean couldn't help a smirk at the disbelief and elation on Cas's face.

The door opened and they both quickly schooled themselves to be appropriately somber. A petite white woman looked up at them.

“Mrs. Jane Ike?” Cas asked.

“Yes?”

“Good morning,” Cas said, “I’m Agent Wagner and this is Agent Kiszka.” They held up their badges. “We just have a few questions regarding the incident involving your children last month.”

“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Ike said, “we’ve already spoken to the police. Way back then.”

“A possible new lead has surfaced and we’d just like to get your story again.”

“A new lead? My children drowned in the current.”

Cas faltered, so Dean tagged in. “What my partner means is that your case has been linked to other incidents in the area. We’re investigating possible mismanagement in the Department of Natural Resources.”

“I see...” Mrs. Ike nodded. “Yes, please, come in.”

When she turned to lead them in, Dean put a hand on Cas’s forearm. * _You’re doing great,*_ he silently mouthed, giving him a quick thumbs up.

They followed Mrs. Ike to the living room. Her husband entered from the kitchen and she said, “Honey, these Agents are here to talk about Sean and Justin. They say the DNR might be involved in the accident.”

“We’re with the FBI,” Cas clarified.

“Hello, yes, anything we can do to help,” he said with a slight, probably African, accent, shaking their hands. 

They took their seats on the sofa and chairs. Dean noticed that Cas took the same posture Sam did when he interviewed victims, and he suppressed a grin.

Dean pulled out a small notebook and Cas began, “Could you tell us what happened that day? In as much detail as you can.”

Mrs. Ike took a deep breath, reaching out to take her husband’s hand. “We... we were just enjoying a day out at the Preserve. Justin loved the woods, he wanted to be out there all the time. Wouldn’t have ever come home if I didn’t... didn't ma- _ake_ him,” her voice cracked. 

Mr. Ike squeezed her hand, and took up the story. “Sean wanted to go swimming, of course, and how could we say no? The beach was open, it was a beautiful day.”

“Yes, I noticed a picture of your son on the mantle. Was he a swimmer?” Cas asked.

“Water polo,” Mr. Ike said, his chest swelling with pride. “He thought he might try for Captain next year.”

“I see.”

Mrs. Ike spoke again, “They were only in the water a few minutes, but then Justin started to struggle.” She closed her eyes, and her free hand balled into a fist on her knee. “Sean swam over to him before we could even react, but then he was struggling, too.” She took another steadying breath. “They were thrashing and shouting, then they just disappeared under the water.”

“Were the bodies recovered?” Cas asked.

Mrs. Ike flinched from the question. “No. None of the children who drowned this last month have been recovered. They even dredged the river to find them, but…”

Cas nodded as she trailed off.

Dean gave Cas a beat to ask more questions. When he didn’t continue, Dean lowered his pencil and said, “We have some additional questions for you. They might sound odd, but please bear with us.”

Mr. and Mrs. Ike nodded.

“Have you smelled any sulfur or rotten eggs in the house? Any cold spots, weird noises?”

“No,” they said.

Cas picked up on the line of questioning, “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary at the Preserve? Yellow dust on the ground, ice on the water?”

“No, nothing like that,” Mr. Ike said.

“Were there any bubbles in the water before the incident?”

“I don't think so.” His eyebrows started to furrow.

“Did your desire to visit the Preserve appear suddenly? Did you perhaps have other plans that you canceled at the last minute?”

“No,” Mrs. Ike answered, “we went to the woods all the time. It was a very normal Saturday.”

Cas glanced at Dean, “I think that’s all the questions we have for now.”

“Yeah, I think so." They both stood and Dean pulled out a business card. “If you think of anything else, anything weird that happened that day, please call us.”

“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Ike said, taking the card.

They all shook hands again, and Mr. and Mrs. Ike walked them to the front door.

But just before he crossed the threshold, Cas turned back and took each of their hands. The couple visibly relaxed at his touch.

“This shouldn’t have happened, and you didn’t deserve this," he said as he looked them right in the eyes. "I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Mrs. Ike’s eyes began to tear up. Mr. Ike stood just a little straighter.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice unwavering.

 

———

 

As they drove to the next victim’s home, Cas had a question for Dean.

“Why did you tell Mrs. Ike that we were investigating mismanagement instead of searching for what drowned her children?” 

“People wanna solve injustices, Cas,” Dean answered without looking from the road, "I gave her something that she could help fix. Just big and vague enough that she won’t look into it further, but not so big that her testimony couldn’t make a dent in it.”

Cas nodded at that, returning his gaze out the window. Dean could see the files shuffling in his mind, and it made him grin all over again.

 

~*~*~*~

 

After interviewing their other two families, they met up with Sam at a local diner.

“So what’d you get?” Dean asked Sam as they ate.

“Not much," Sam sighed. "No odd phenomenons, no EMF." He picked at his salad. "One of my victims was a swimmer, though. Seemed odd for a drowning victim.”

“Yeah, one of our vics was in water polo,” Dean noted. "Captain material. Strong-lookin’ kid.”

“All of our victims' parents described shouting and struggling during the incident," Cas added, his tone grave, "That’s not what drowning looks like."

“Now that you mention it, mine said that too,” said Sam. “So... maybe something is grabbing children in the river?”

“What does that?” Dean asked.

“What _doesn’t_ do that?” Sam sighed. ”Almost every culture has at least one monster that grabs kids who go into the water, the trick is which ones are real.”

“Great," Dean rolled his eyes and flicked a fry across his plate. "Alright, sounds like we should visit this beach for more clues,” he decided, and took a bite out of his burger.

 

~*~*~*~

 

They pulled into the Fox Bluff Conservation Area in the late afternoon, parking at the far end of the lot and making their way toward the trail that would take them down to the river. As they crossed the parking lot, Sam let Cas get a little ahead of them, holding back with Dean.

“So Cas looks pretty happy,” he remarked.

“Really? That’s what you got from that drowning talk?”

“I meant besides that. Obviously.”

Dean watched as Cas approached an informational sign placed at the trailhead. “I had him take lead on the interviews.”

“Oh, wow,” Sam raised his eyebrows, “and that went okay?”

“Yeah, man, he did great,” Dean answered with a smile, “I was right there for backup. By the third one he was doin’ the whole thing on his own.”

“Huh,” Sam answered simply, his gaze flicking once between Dean and Cas.

They caught up with Cas at the sign. It told visitors about the local flowers and wildlife.

“What’d you find, there, buddy?” Dean asked.

Cas frowned, “This sign says that European Honey Bees displace the native bees in this ecosystem."

"Oh." Dean’s face screwed up with a suppressed smile. “Hey, man, I'm sorry.”

Cas hung his head a little. “Even the inherent goodness of the bees is more complicated than I thought…”

Dean put a consoling arm around Cas’s shoulders and gently steered him back to the path.

As they all walked down the trail they kept their eyes out for anything suspicious in the surrounding woods— sigils on trees, hex bags tucked into roots, or even fairy circles on the ground— but nothing seemed out of place in this forest. It didn't even look particularly old, not a great candidate for a haunting.

About halfway there they ran into another informational sign that Cas stopped to read. This one described the preserve’s struggle with invasive species.

“This sign says the shrubbery took over in a matter of decades.” Cas’s brow furrowed in thought, “That seems an unnatural rate of distribution for a plant.”

Dean recognized that look, and swooped in. “Cas you already have us investigating doppelganger bands, we don’t have time to look at…” he glanced down at the sign,  _“Honeysuckle?_ What is that, a euphemism?”

A hiker heading back up the trail dissolved into giggles as they passed.

“Backburner, Cas, c’mon,” Dean mumbled, and tugged at Cas’s sleeve to move him along.

When they finally reached the river, they found their path blocked by a rope with a sign that read: “Closed Due to Strong Current.” They walked right around it and crossed the small lawn to continue down to the small beach. Still, though, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“Well this is a bust,” Dean grumbled.

“We've eliminated many options from the lack of clues,” Cas offered.

“Right,” agreed Sam.

“Okay, but we've got no bodies, not even _monster_ bodies, just ‘thrashing and shouting’,” Dean complained.

“We know it's all happening in one place," Cas argued. "Whatever it is centers on this bend in the river. If it is another monster I think they've laid claim to this spot."

“That still doesn't tell me how to find 'em or how to kill ‘em.”

“Silver and Angel Blades seem like a good bet," Cas shrugged. 

“I don't like a ‘good bet’, Cas.”

“Obviously it would be better to know, but that's what we have.”

“Well I'm not going risk our lives on that!”

“So you'd rather risk more innocent people?”

“Guys!” Sam shouted, coming up to shove them apart, they were practically nose to nose.

Cas defiantly continued, “I'll deal with it. Whatever it is can't hurt me.”

“Oh, yeah? You're so sure?” 

"I'll be fine. I'm an _angel,_ Dean."

Dean drew back. His jaw clenched and he turned to step away.

“I fuckin’ know that, Cas.”

Sam looked between the two of them, an eyebrow raised. “Well... our options at this point are to draw them out and fight them, or do some more research,” he tried.

“There's nothin’ to research,” Dean growled.

“Then we fight,” Sam cut over him, heading off more argument. “I think Cas should go in and draw them out, and we'll hop in when they show.”

Dean and Cas both looked out at the water and back to Sam.

“What? Cas is right, he's the safest draw.”

“Bait,” Dean corrected.

“No. Cas can fight back.”

Dean looked to the water again.

_A trench coat floating on the shoreline._

_Cas walking into the water. His head dipped below the surface and he was gone._

Dean looked at Cas. It was subtle, but the look in his eye told Dean that he was thinking the same thing.

“You don't have to Cas,” Dean said, far softer than a moment ago. "We'll find another way.”

“There is no other way, we'd just be wasting time,” Cas said quietly, drawing his blade and heading for the water.

He paused at the shoreline.

“Cas…”

But Cas didn't turn around. He stepped from the sand and strode into the water, wading out up to his hips.

They waited in silence.

Ten minutes passed.

Twenty.

Cas turned around, “Maybe they only feed on childr—”

His head jerked back, the water splashed, and he disappeared.

“ _Cas!”_ Dean pulled a silver knife from his belt and leapt in, diving headfirst after Cas before Sam was even ankle deep.

The water was all bubbles and muck, Dean couldn't see a foot in front of his face. He whipped back and forth, hoping for something, anything, a shadow, a movement—

Something scaly grabbed his leg. He slashed at it and a scream pierced the water. Lungs already burning, Dean kicked, and he surfaced for air.

“Dean!” Sam bellowed a short distance away. He stabbed at something in the water below him.

Cas surfaced further away, face burning with fury. “Grindylows!” he shouted, but it was all he managed before he was yanked back under.

Sam reached out, "Dean—!"

But Dean didn't hear Sam. He dove right back in.

Dean couldn't see, but he could hear. In the darkening depths of the river, the water was churning with the movement of something, lots of somethings, moving away from him frighteningly fast. The grindylows were taking Cas deeper into the river.

Dean kicked out, making to swim after them, but one wrapped its long fingers around his arm, jerking him to a halt. Another one grabbed his ankle. He tried to slash at them, but he was being pulled in too many directions. The water was so murky, so loud, so dark— and getting darker now. They were dragging him down. Dean needed air. He needed the surface. He needed to find Cas—

From the corner of his eye, Dean saw a blue light slowly build a distance away, then burst with a great flash. He squeezed his eyes shut as the now-familiar warmth of Cas’s grace washed over him, and the long, sharp fingers dissolved away. 

Dean opened is eyes and moved to swim— but for a terrifying second, he couldn't find the surface. He was too far down, there was no light, there was no way to find 'up' from here—

Another hand gripped his shoulder, but this one he knew, and in a whirl of tan, Dean was whisked to the surface.

Sam was already walking out of the water once Dean and Cas swam back to shore. Dean only made it a few steps across the sand before Cas rounded on him, grabbing Dean by his shirt, his eyes still burning with grace.

"Hey—!"

“I _told_ you they couldn't kill me, Dean!”

“What? I couldn't just _stand_ there—!” he tried to jerk himself from Cas's hold.

“Yes you could!” Cas yanked him closer.

“So, what, you wanted me to wait here patiently while they tore you to shreds!?" 

“Yes!” 

“And what if you drowned, huh? What if you—”

“I don't _breathe,_ I'm an _angel, Dea—!"_

"God damn it, that doesn't matter!" Dean tore his shirt as he tried to shove Cas away. He stumbled back while Cas didn't budge.

Sam stood, frozen, off to the side, staring between them.

“It doesn't _matter_ that you're a _goddamned angel!_ That has _never_ kept you safe!”

“It has kept me safe on a number of—”

“Not when it fucking mattered!”

Cas opened his mouth, but didn't respond.

Dean glared at Cas, shoulders heaving, then he turned on his heel and stormed off up the trail.

“Dean—” Cas tried, but Sam put a hand on Cas’s shoulder. 

“He's gonna need a minute.”

They stood silently on the beach as they watched Dean's retreating back.

Cas looked down and opened his fists, finding the plaid scraps of Dean's shirt still held in his palm.


	4. Chapter 4

As they made their way back to the car, Sam found Cas was unsteady on his feet.

“You ok?” he asked as he caught Cas for the second time.

Cas nodded as he pushed himself upright off of Sam. “I expended more grace than I intended in order to take out the nest of grindylows.”

He glanced over at the sign about the bees as they passed it.

When they reached the car, Dean wasn't there.

“He probably just took a walk,” Sam said as Cas leaned up against the back door. “I'm sure he'll be back in a minute.”

Cas sighed. “Of course.”

Sam thought he looked more dejected than a messy hunt called for.

———

Dean knew he needed to blow off some steam before he went back to the car. Sam and Cas would just have to wait.

The trail split, and he took off down the longer one.

He knew he was going to have to apologize. He had fucked up the hunt. Cas didn't need a babysitter.

But he had been pulled under. He was just gone so fast and—

Dean shook his head. Cas was fine. He had gotten himself out of it and he was fine. He was fine and he was safe. Even with Dean's dead weight, he was _fine_ now. 

Cas was _fine._  

He clenched his fists and considered the pros and cons of punching a tree. Cut knuckles and angry hippies beat out the release so he dug his nails into his palm and breathed as deeply as he could.

Everything was fine. No thanks to his dumb ass, but everything was fine. Cas was fine.

A few more long, deep breaths and he was starting to feel like he might be calm enough to return to the car. He was just about to turn around to head back up the trail when he noticed something shoved under a log.

It was probably just someone's jacket, but something told him it was at least worth a look. 

What he pulled out wasn't really a jacket, but he didn't know what it was. It was made from some sort of skin, gray and spotted, with short, flat fur. His gut told him it was weird enough to look at later, so he tucked it under his arm and took it with him back to the car.

When he got there, Sam and Cas were leaning on the Impala waiting for him. He tossed the whatever-it-was into the trunk, wordlessly got in the driver's seat, and started the engine.

When the car reached the exit of the parking lot Dean asked, without turning around, “Think there's any more of those grindylows?”

“No,” Cas answered.

And with that he pulled out and headed north.

 

~*~*~*~

 

They rode to the next town in silence save for the radio.

The sun was setting as they reached the town of Fox Lake. People had been disappearing from their boats all across the area, but most of them had disappeared from the body of water the town sat next to, also called Fox Lake. The sun was already getting low, so after grabbing some sandwiches from the nearest crap-tastic fast food joint, they found a place to crash for the night. A neon sign buzzed “Fox Lake Motel” as they pulled into the parking lot. 

“Can't keep anything straight around here,” Dean grumbled. “Nobody can come up with any original names for anything.”

Nobody answered him. Dean grumbled again.

Once they were checked in, Dean rushed into their room without another word. The door slammed before Sam could even get his own bag from the trunk.

He sighed, and went to follow his brother, but stopped halfway to the door. He turned back and saw that Cas was leaning against the car.

“You coming?” Sam asked him.

“No,” Cas answered wearily.

“Okay...” Sam raised an eyebrow. “You gonna stay out here all night?”

Cas's eyes shifted away and back. "No."

Sam huffed and nodded. “Alright then. Be careful, out here, okay?”

“I will.”

“Goodnight, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Sam.”

Sam entered the room and set his bag on the bed Dean hadn’t already claimed. He went about setting up his laptop, intending to begin searching for what kinds of creatures would take people from their boats.

After a minute Dean looked up from his own bag, looking around the room. “Is Cas coming in?”

Sam glanced up and back down to his laptop, “Nope.”

“So, what, he’s staying out there all night?”

Sam shook his head, “Nope.”

“Well then what the hell is he doing?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t ask. Not my business.”

“The hell do you mean not your business? He can’t just up and run off in the middle of a—”

“Dean. Dude.” Sam raised his eyes from his screen.

Dean pursed his lips. He raised a fist near his chin, opened his mouth and closed it again.

“Fine,” he said. And he turned around to get his own laptop.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Cas wasn't there when Dean woke up in the middle of the night.

 

~*~*~*~

 

When Dean awoke in the morning, Cas still wasn't there, but there _was_ something at the end of his bed. He rubbed at his eyes, flipped back the covers, and got out of bed to check it out.

It was a new flannel shirt, perfectly folded, with a piece of pecan pie in a plastic container sitting on top of it. Looking closer at the shirt, he realized it was almost the exact pattern of the one he had worn yesterday, the one he had ripped. His shoulders slumped and he sighed, running a hand over his face. He scooped up the shirt and the pie and tucked them into his duffel.

Sam watched his brother as he got dressed from the other end of the room. He had noticed the little pile at the end of Dean bed, and found himself wondering for the umpteenth time in his life why his brother and his best friend were allergic to their damned words.

Having been up and ready before Dean, he nominated himself to head out and pick up breakfast. When Sam left the motel room, though, he found that Cas was standing against the Impala again.

“How long have you been out here?” Sam asked.

Cas didn't answer right away. “A while,” he said.

 _“Mm-hmm,”_ Sam raised an eyebrow. “Well, he's not as pissy anymore. Maybe you should go talk to him.”

Cas stared worryingly at the motel door.

“Please, Cas? Go deal with whatever’s going on between you two so I don't have to deal with it for the rest of the hunt?”

Cas looked back at Sam. Something passed behind his eyes, he nodded, and he approached the door.

He turned back to Sam, “Should I knock?”

Sam sighed, “Just go in. Please."

With one last hesitation, Cas turned the knob and entered.

Dean was fixing himself a cup of instant coffee at the motel's little table. He glanced up at Cas, “Hey.”

With hands shoved into his pockets, Cas walked into the room just far enough that he could discreetly glance into the trash can.

Dean winced over his cup. “I didn’t throw it away, Cas, it’s just in my bag.”

Cas snapped straight again, shifting his weight between his feet.

“Look— Cas—” Dean turned to him, “I’m the one who fucked up here, so why are you the one giving peace offerings?”

Cas didn’t say anything.

Dean waited.

“You won’t like my answer,” Cas finally said.

“Try me.”

Cas looked down at the floor between them. “I forget sometimes, even though I was near-human myself for a while, that humans are... inherently emotional.”

Dean narrowed his eyes but waited for Cas to continue.

“You’re social beings. You pack-bond,” Cas glanced up, “Angels… don’t.”

“So what, Sam and I aren’t your pack?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Dean.” Cas sharply met Dean’s eyes.

“Then what are you saying?”

“That—!" he pulled back, "That I’m sorry I forgot to take your protective nature into account.”

Dean sighed. He leaned back against the table and ran a hand over his mouth. “Well I shouldn’t have been an idiot in the first place.”

“You weren’t an—”

“‘Course I was, Cas, I almost got myself drowned over nothing.” He took his coffee in hand and sat in the chair by his open laptop, fiddling with the stirrer in his cup, “I made you use your mojo on a shit monster hunt, I stormed off when you were right, I’m an idiot, Cas.”

He looked up. Cas was standing very stiffly.

“What?”

Cas’s eyes were hard, almost angry. “You are not an idiot, Dean.”

“Then what would you call it? Stupidity?”

“I just said, Dean, concern! I—” he stopped himself. He gritted his teeth and raised his hands near his head, “Damn it, Dean, It’s good that you care! Do you know what I would give to show my brothers and sisters the kind of concern that you have? The kind of importance you place on life? I—” he stopped himself again. His arms dropped to his sides. “Damn it, it’s a good thing... I’m the one who needs to be better. To remember." He returned his gaze to the floor. "So you don’t hurt yourself over me.”

Dean set his coffee on the table. “Hey...” He stood, and stepped over to Cas. “Hey, no…”

He reached out, tentatively placing his hand on Cas's shoulder. "No, Cas, you're not... You're, um..." 

Cas lifted his eyes to Dean's.

Dean swallowed.

He yanked Cas into a tight hug. 

“You're worth hurting over,” he said over Cas's shoulder.

Cas tensed. He pulled back from the embrace, gently pushing Dean back to look into his face again. A smile fought at the corners of his mouth and that inexplicable warmth rose once more in his chest—

There was a knock at the door. Dean leapt back, hand flinching for the gun at his belt.

Sam opened the door and peeked around it, a large, grease-stained bag in his hand. “Hey, um, are we good, guys? Can I bring in breakfast?”

Dean wiped his palms on his shirt and approached Sam to take the bag. “Yeah. Sure. What’d you get?” 

Cas watched Dean cross the room, and found himself unable to care that Sam had interrupted, because this time, he was going to hold onto the warmth as long as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't want to wait 'til the end, the next work, [Talk on the Street](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14243796)is Cas's side of this night's events.  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

“They sure fuckin’ love foxes up here, huh?” Dean grumbled as they passed the fifth business named “Fox” Something.

“The Fox people lived in this area when European settlers caught up to them," Cas answered. "Though that isn’t what they called themselves, they were named that by the Americans."

“Wow. Remind me to never let you write a fun facts book.”

“Fun facts?” Cas tipped his head.

Dean jabbed a finger at Sam. “Do _not_ explain that to him.”

Sam just silently raised his palms.

They parked and entered the Fox Lake police station, dressed in their suits once again. They flashed their badges at the front desk and were promptly led to the Sheriff’s office.

The Sheriff, a relatively short Latina woman, beamed at them as they rounded the corner, “Evening, boys!" she greeted as she shook their hands, "I'm Sheriff Laura Campos. Sit down, please, sit down,” she gestured to the two chairs in front of her desk. Cas took a seat on the couch against the wall. “God, I’m glad you’re here, I was startin' to think the Fed was never gonna show! So, which case are you here for?”

“The disappearances,” Sam answered.

“Yeah, which ones?” 

“Which ones?” He exchanged a look with Dean.

"Well I’ve had people disappearing off of boats throughout the Chain-o'-Lakes here, but I’m also working another case in conjunction with the surrounding towns about a spate of missing women. So which are you here for?”

“Ah. Actually,” Sam shifted forward in his chair, "we're here about both.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Really.”

“We have a hunch they may be related. So what can you tell us?”

 _“Well,"_ she leaned back in her seat, "I’ve got all the case files in the back, but the big picture here is that about a month ago people started disappearing off their boats. Ten people in two weeks. Usually fishermen, but also a couple of people just out for a swim. Always found the empty boat with all of their supplies still in it, plenty of gas in the motors. No suicide notes, no prior histories of suicide attempts, or running off, or any other mental health issues. Perfectly normal people out on the lake just up and disappearing. Then two weeks ago here it just stopped. No one else has gone.”

Dean nodded along as he wrote furiously on his notepad.

“Then in the other case, I’ve got distraught husbands, and a couple'a wives even, coming in left and right tellin' me and the other departments that their wives up and left 'em for an Irishman— always an Irishman— and they won’t return their calls. Got no leads on where they've gone, either. Just dropped off the radar. And when we push the spouses for a description half of 'em can’t give one because they never met the man, and the other half don’t match up with each other in the least. So I’ve either got a shapeshifter or a Celtic gang of homewreckers!”

They perked up at the word 'shapeshifter,' but settled quickly when they realized she was joking.

“That sure sounds like a doozy, ma'am,” Cas offered from the back.

Sam and Dean glanced back at him, trying not to let their surprise show.

“Understatement of the year!" Sheriff Campos laughed, "I haven’t seen anything like this in all my career.”

“Us either,” Dean said as he closed his notebook. “Well, once. But that was a long time ago.”

“Eve?” Cas asked before he could check himself.

Dean gave him a small warning look. “Yes, Eve.” He turned back to the Sheriff, “Serial, um, kidnapper,” he lied to fit the occasion. “We caught her.”

“Well then I’m glad we’re in the right hands,” she beamed.

“Yeah, well, we’ll just take a look at those case files, if you don’t mind.”

 

———

 

Later that evening, sitting in the storeroom of the police station, the three of them found themselves surrounded by piles of case files and stacks of their own notes.

“So no bodies. Again,” Dean huffed.

“There _is_ plenty of testimony from the spouses though,” Cas noted. “Is it common among other people to talk so much when they’re upset?” he looked up at Sam and Dean.

“Well, you know, their wives left them. Their pride is hurt,” Dean explained.

“Their pride?”

“Yeah, you know, gotta be able to take care of your woman and all that.” Dean gestured vaguely with his hand. “If you couldn’t keep her happy, then you failed.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy,” Cas frowned. “What about their happiness?”

“What?”

“Well all parties involved should be happy for an ideal marriage. And shouldn’t they have noticed well prior that their partner was unhappy enough to leave?”

"No," Dean's face darkened, "They never notice."

“Of course, it is understandable,” Cas continued past Dean’s changed tone. “Humans have only recently begun to view marriage as an institution for romantic love. For most of your history you viewed it as a business interaction. It’s really no wonder you’re not very good at it yet.”

“Did you tell him about fun facts while I was gone or something?” Dean looked accusingly at Sam.

“Look, you two are getting way off base,” Sam reeled them back in. “What do we think we’re looking at here?”

“Could be a siren, or a shapeshifter,” Dean said.

“Or many creatures. So far we’ve been dealing with groups of monsters,” Cas noted.

“I am _hating_ hunting with no _freakin’_ clues,” Dean complained, rubbing at his temples.

“Do you think maybe we _could_ be dealing with another Eve?” Sam asked cautiously. “All these monsters showing up at once, rare ones that don’t really belong here? I mean, North Carolina leeches and English grindylows? And now whatever the heck we have here, sailor-nappings and wife-snatchers.”

“What, like a Mother of Water Monsters? With a side of homewrecker?” Dean stood and stretched, popping his back. _“Ugh,_ we’ve spent all day in here and I’m starving. Let’s get some dinner and sleep on it.”

“I can keep reading,” Cas said.

“Sure, buddy, we’ll take the rest of these with us for you.”

They packed up the unread files and headed out to eat.

 

———

 

After dinner they went back to their motel, intending to get some sleep before they left in the morning to interview a few of the spouses that had stood out.

“That one guy said he followed them down to the river but they just disappeared. Another point for the Mother of Water Monsters theory,” Dean said as he lifted his duffel onto his bed.

“I do _not_ want to have to hunt down another phoenix,” Sam groaned as he flopped face-first onto his bed. “We've filled my cowboy quota for the year already. ”

“I couldn’t send you back to that one even if I wanted to,” Cas said from his place at the table where he was still reading.

Sam sat up, “Why not?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Cas stared at the table. He tilted his head. Then he looked up at them, waving his hands, “Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey.”

Sam and Dean stared at him.

“Doctor _Who?”_ Dean asked mockingly.

“You never want me to explain the differential equations,” Cas shrugged, “so I used an appropriate reference instead.”

Dean rolled his eyes and turned back to his bag. Sam gave Cas a silent thumbs-up.

Dean pulled out his toothbrush to get ready for—

The door flew open and a woman burst into their motel room.

 _"There_ ye are! I been worried _sick_ about you!” she cried with a thick Irish accent. She rushed at Dean, arms thrown wide, her extraordinarily long, wavy brown hair fanning out behind her.

“What?” Dean backed away from her. She was white, a good four or five inches shorter than Dean, and wearing a dark jacket, jeans, and black, calf-high boots. Cas leapt up from his seat and blocked the woman, thrusting a protective arm in front of Dean.

The woman completely ignored Cas. “Ye jus' took off!" she said to Dean. "Took me _donkey years_ to follow you!”

“Lady, do I know you? Wasn't that door locked?” Dean glowered desperately at Sam. He found Sam staring at the woman, slow to raise his gun.

“Well I should hope so," she landed her hands on her hips, "I'm yer wife, after all."

 _“Wife?”_ three voices shouted.

Her eyes widened. “You do know, don't you?”

“You better start explaining yourself real quick here—” Dean started.

 _“Me?_ I think _you're_ the one what needs to explain _your_ self!”

“What the hell are you _talking_ about?”

“Did you get drunk and go cavorting with women last night?” Cas asked without turning around.

“No, I didn't _cavort_ with anyone last night! I was at that motel all night!” Dean turned back to the woman, “What the _hell_ are you _talking_ about?” he repeated.

“My _coat!_ Ye took my _coat!”_

“I didn’t take anyone’s—!” Dean shut his eyes. “Oh.”

She brightened at his realization. “Yes, yes! Ye found my coat and now,” she stepped forward, offering a hand, “I am your wife.”

Whatever had a hold over Sam finally broke with a short laugh. They all turned to him as he smiled wide and lowered his gun. “You’re a selkie.”

“Aye, that I am.” She looked worryingly back to Dean. “Didn’t you know?”

“Um,” Dean said, “honestly, no.”

Her face fell.

“Look, um, you can have it back—”

“What!?” she balked, placing a hand over her chest, “Doncha want me? Doncha want a wife? I can _feel_ the empty place in yer heart—”

“Yeah, no, lady—"

“Bris!”

“Yeah, okay— Bris— No, I don’t want a wife!”

“Hold on a minute, Dean," Sam said as he holstered his gun. "Maybe she'll be helpful.” 

"What?"

Bris turned to him, her eyebrows furrowed, “I beg yer pardon?” 

“Maybe she knows what the heck has been going on around here," Sam answered Dean. "Might be good to keep her around.”

“Oh, alright— Now you just hold on a tick, boyo,” Bris rounded on him, grabbing his attention with her dark brown eyes and freezing Sam all over again. _"_ _First_ of all, I ain't gonna stay just ‘cause _you_ think I’m useful.” She jabbed him in the chest so hard he was pushed back a step. “I’m here to get my husband! An'  _second_ off, it’s not like I’m under some damnable spell to tell you any sorta crap just ‘cause we're married! I’m perfectly capable of tellin' you crap as a single woman!” She jabbed him again. "An' also not! I don’ have to tell any a' you shit!” 

“O-okay,” Sam pleaded with his palms raised, “I’m sorry, I just—”

“Damn right, you're sorry!” She landed her hands on her hips again, “Honestly, who in their right gourd taught you to speak to a woman like that? Surely not your mother.”

Sam just let that go.

“An' _you!”_ she rounded on Dean next. His palms flew up preemptively. Cas tensed in front of him, ready to pounce. “Where d'you get off goin' an' takin' people’s things that you find lyin' about if you don’t intend to marry ‘em?”

“We’re— We were— We’re hunting monsters. Other monsters,” Dean stuttered, a blush creeping up his neck. “It was just weird, so I thought—”

“Well I’m not a monster an' you don’t want a wife, even if ye _clearly_ need one,” she tossed a hand at Dean’s chest. Then she tilted her head at it, “Well, at least _somebody._ Looks like you're not that picky.”

“Hey, you want your coat back or not?”

“‘Course I do! I’ll have nothin’ to do with a loveless marriage!”

“'Kay. Good. Just— hang on a sec.” Dean left, edging around Cas to go get the coat from the trunk.

Bris shook her head as the door closed behind him. “Lord above, is he always like this?”

“Mostly, yes,” Cas answered, finally relaxing a bit.

Bris turned to Cas like she just realized he was there. Her eyes dropped and her face softened, falling somber.

“Oh, darlin’. I’m so sorry.”

Cas squinted, following her gaze to his chest.

Dean returned, the coat in hand, and held it out toward Bris.

“Now I know you just reamed out my brother for this,” he said cautiously, “but if I give this back would you stick around so we can ask you some questions? You're the best chance we’ve had in days to figure out what's hurting people around here.”

Fire spiked in Bris's eyes, but she stopped, shut them, and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she looked around the room at the three of them, nodding at the decision she came to.

“Yes,” she said. She turned to face Sam,  _“You_ actually know what I am. Even if yer a cute hoor, it’s more’n I can say for most a' the folks ‘round here.” She gestured at Cas,  _“This_ one looks like he could take an ox.” She turned back to Dean, "An' you’ve got one a' the warmest hearts I ever seen. You lot seem like you could help us here, help my family. So, yes, I'll stay a while for you, I promise.”

“And you’re not just saying that because we’re married?”

If looks could kill, Dean Winchester would be a very dead man.

 _“Alright, alright!_ Here!”

Bris snatched her coat back, holding it close. She looked around at them expectantly.

“Well? Close yer eyes!”

They all glanced at each other.

“Why...?” Sam asked slowly.

She rolled her eyes, “So's I can _hide it,_ a’course!”

With some hesitation, they closed their eyes as asked. She mumbled something about _utter gombeens_  and walked a quick circuit around the room. After a bit of shuffling near the beds, she said, “Alright. S'not ideal, but it’ll do for now.”

She sat on the bed as they opened their eyes.

“Alright," she said, folding her hands in her lap, "I promised, so ask your questions.”

They gathered around her.

 _“Erm,_ on second thought, no,” she held up her hands as she looked up at them, "I don't like this.” She stood and crossed to the television, waving a hand at them. "You lot sit.”

They obeyed and the three of them sat on the edges of the beds.

“Much better,” she smiled. ”So. What'd'ya wanna know?”

“Wow, where do we start?” Sam said.

“How about what's a selkie doing in Illinois?” Dean asked.

“Am I in Illinois?” she asked, clearly shocked. She leaned against the dresser the TV sat on. “That's one a' them states in the middle, yeah?”

The three of them nodded.

"Lord above..." Bris closed her eyes and gathered herself, “I were brought here against my will, few years ago, now.” She looked off to the side, “Illinois... _Told_ Ballo we wasn't in fuckin' Canada, knew the water tasted wrong.”

“So it's not just you?” Sam asked.

“Hm? Oh, no, there's about forty of us.”

“What about the rest of the monsters around here?” Dean asked. ”You know them?”

“Hardly,” she blanched. “We was kept together, but they're not exactly friends.”

“Kept together?” Sam asked.

“Up ‘til about month ago, we was bein' held in these… ponds. I only ever saw some of ‘em, seein' as ours had this cage over it.” Her face contorted with anger. “Worst place I ever been in my two hundred years.”

“But you escaped?”

“Aye. There were some terrible floodin’ about a month back, an absolute Godsend. The river came right up to us an' the ponds all overflowed. Our pond— a tree came an' smashed the bars to drobes an' we was able to get out through the hole.”

“So someone's got a zoo and it overflowed into the Chain of Lakes?” Dean asked.

“Chain-o’-Lakes,” Cas cut in.

Dean turned to him, “What?”

“You're saying it wrong,” Cas deadpanned. "It's the Chain-o'-Lakes.”

Dean held out his palm in a silent, _Really?_

Meanwhile, Bris had gone very still.

“Hey, um, are you alright?” Sam asked.

“It weren't a zoo.” Bris rubbed her arm. “It was a farm.”

They fell silent.

*Oh, god,* Sam breathed.

“No. _No,_  I don't want yer pity,” Bris was pulling herself back. “We got out. I'm out. I'm free again.” She spread her arms and took a deep breath. “It's not the same as the ocean, but it's _leagues_ better than that damned pond.”

She slapped her palms on the dresser behind her, “Well now, boys, what else d'you wanna know? Or are we done here an' we can go out an' get ourselves properly langered?”

“Oh no," Dean started, "there's been way too much shit goin' down around here—” 

“No, wait, you know what? This might go better over a drink,” Sam suggested.

“Grand!" Bris beamed. "I'm jus' gonna go use the jack first,” and she bounded off to the bathroom.

Dean rounded on Sam, “You want to get an Irishwoman drunk?”

“Really, Dean?”

“He has a point,” Cas said. “The Irish people are known for their proclivity to alcoholism brought on by centuries of oppression and direct hostility.”

“Okay, you have _got_ to stop with the not-fun facts,” Dean pointed at him.

“I can't stop doing what you refuse to explain.”

Bris popped out of the bathroom and cheerfully crossed the room, “That banger outside yours or do we need a Jo Maxi?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yes, let's go get her drunk so I can not understand her _more.”_

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

Bonus scene:

 

As they loaded into the Impala, Sam pulled out his phone. Some research was in order, but first…

Irish Slang Translator:

 

 

> **Cute hoor:** a scoundrel, one who manipulates a situation to their advantage

Sam wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed that it didn’t mean what he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! Oh boy, I'm so glad you're here. I've been excited from the start to get here! 
> 
> I love writing Bris so much, but if you happen to be Irish and you notice something that sounds weird or wrong, please shoot me a comment or a message on tumblr @sassysousa! I put A LOT of research time into getting her voice right but I am well aware that I can always improve. :)


	6. Chapter 6

A quick search on their phones found a small bar nearby. _'_ _The Route 12 Bar'?_ Dean had moaned,  _Can nobody name anything around here?_

The drive over was short, but Sam still managed to get some perfunctory research in. As the group started across the parking lot to the bar, he held Dean back for a second.

“I think found what took all the married women,” Sam said, keeping his voice low.

“Yeah?” Dean shot a suspicious glance after Bris as she continued toward the front door with Cas.

“Yeah. Turns out male and female selkies don't have the same M.O. Female selkies find a human spouse and live with them on land— not a single myth on that ends happily by the way, they're always tragedies— but according to the lore,  _male_ selkies seek out unhappily married women and take them back to the sea.” He frowned, "Not sure if they’re literally underwater right now or if they just moved, but my point is I think the male selkies are taking our missing women."

“Well then forget this little excursion, let’s get her to tell us where they are.” Dean pulled his jacket back from his gun and stepped toward the bar—

“Wait!” Sam grabbed his arm.

Dean stopped. He raised his eyes from where Sam held him. “What?”

“Um,” Sam released him, “well… she didn’t do this. Like I said, different M.O.’s. She might not even know about the kidnappings.”

“But she might, so we’ll make her tell us. Did you forget how this works?”

“Look, just humor me, okay? I think we can get more information with honey than vinegar, here. There’s more than just that going on and she’s still our best shot to figure it all out. Besides,” Sam chuffed, “you saw her back there. Not sure we can _make_ her do much of anything.”

Dean's sour look deepened, but he nodded. “Alright, we’ll try this your way. But the _moment_ this goes sideways—”

“Then we make her tell us. Yeah,” Sam agreed, and they followed Cas and Bris inside.

The group got themselves a table tucked in the corner and ordered up a round of drinks. After finally getting around to introducing themselves— _We were fekkin’ married an' I don't even know yer name!—_ they got down to business.

“So you boys're hunters, huh?” Bris asked over her glass of whiskey, neat. “Didn't peg ye fer the type.”

“Why not?” Sam asked.

“Well fer starters, you're not tryin’a murder me in cold blood like the hunters back home.”

“That's not how we operate,” Sam said, his grip tightening on his bottle. “The British hunters are dicks.”

"Aw  _fuck,_ I'll drink to that!” Bris whooped, thrusting out her glass. They each tossed back a sip, Cas conspicuously following along. _“Ahh,_ yessir I'll drink to that all _night!_ But I didn't mean them. I hafta muck with the Irish hunters more'n the Brits. Probably learnt it all from ‘em, though, the scabby bastards.” 

The others just nodded in response, the four of them silently stewing in their shared hatred.

Then Dean cleared his throat, “Well this little bonding circle is great and all," he thunked his beer down and leaned on the table toward Bris, "but I've still got some questions.” 

“What's taking people from their boats?” Sam cut in before Dean could jump the gun.

Bris just smiled and sipped her drink. _"Ah,_ well see, that there's taken care of." 

"Taken care of  _how?"_ Dean said.

"Taken care of _fine,"_ she dismissed him. "Don’t you worry your pretty little head over it.”

“Alright, listen here, lady—”

Her glass thudded to the table.

“My _name,”_ she pinned Dean with a glare like a beetle to an index card, “is _Bris.”_

The table went still. Dean swallowed. His blush returned.

Bris sat back up, smirking at the effect. “Though I'll also accept 'ma’am',” she said with a wink.

“I— Okay,” Dean fumbled his bottle, “Bris. Right.”

Sam caught Cas scowling at his own drink. More so than usual. 

“Um— look—  _Bris,"_ Dean tried to continue, "I'm gonna worry here, okay? Somethin’s hurtin' people around here and we need to know about it.”

Bris leaned back in her chair, considering the three men before her. “Now look, boys,” she said, swirling her glass, “I been tellin’ you an awful lot here tonight. Don't seem all that fair. I need to know you’re prepared to return the favor, help _us_ out, too.”

“With what?” Sam asked.

“Well— fer one thing— me an' the family'd sure like to get the heck outta the back arse a' nowheres an' go home.”

“Home to…?”

“To _Ireland_ , ye fekkin’ langer,” she chided through a smile. Sam fumbled his own bottle.

“That's a big favor,” Dean said. “You would’ve been smuggled into the country, so we’d have to smuggle you and all your friends back out. Unless of course you’re fine with just being ferried out to the Atlantic Ocean and tossed off a jetty.”

“Is there maybe something more immediate that's giving you trouble?” Sam suggested. Dean shot him a look.

Bris glanced between the two brothers. She smirked again, “Ye know what? I think we’re gettin’ ahead of ourselves here,” she tossed back last of her glass, “See, I’ll only trust a man so far as he can drink!” and she hopped out of her seat to bound over to the bar top.

*Good thing Cas can down a distillery,* Dean snipped after her.

Cas frowned at his bottle.

Sam watched her go, then glanced at his own half-empty beer. He hesitated for a moment, then shoved his chair back and followed her, leaving it behind.

“Hey!” Dean barked as he left, but Sam ignored him. “The fuck is he doing?”

Sam slipped in at the counter next to Bris.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” he said to the bartender, reasoning that he could allow himself one, maybe two tonight.

Bris raised an impressed eyebrow. “Good to see you gettin' off of that pisswater, there.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m not going to get a lot of ‘trust’ off of that, huh?” He tried his most charming smile and prayed that this wasn't a terrible idea.

“No, I s'pose this is a much better choice.” She looked Sam up and down, pausing just a moment on his chest. The smallest of frowns came and went in an instant, but before Sam could ask after it their drinks were delivered, and they each took up the new whiskeys for a sip. 

It was good. Really good. Though there was something off in the front, an initial taste that didn't sit quite right yet.

Bris tipped her glass back and forth, carefully watching the amber liquid swirl. She glanced up at Sam, like she was waiting on him for something, or was he just seeing things?

Sam dropped his shoulders with an exhale. 

“Hey, um, I really am sorry for what I said back there. At the motel.”

She lowered her drink and eyed him with interest. “Are you now?”

“Yeah, I am.” He ran a finger around the rim of his glass. “We’ve just been working all these cases with no good clues, spinning our wheels, just  _hoping_ for something solid— And then _you_ show up like… I dunno, like an answer to a prayer.”

“Well that _is_ what I do.” She flashed him a grin, and Sam's heart did it's best to flip a somersault.

He caught himself ducking his face and quickly covered it with another sip from his glass. He swallowed too much, too fast, and it burned. 

“You know, Bris," he pushed on, suppressing a cough and trying that smile again, "there’s so much lore on you, on selkies. But not all of it can be true, right?”

“Oh?" The corner of her lips quirked. "An' why not?” 

“The lore’s never completely correct, there’s always parts it misses,” Sam took a chance and let his gaze drop, “parts it interprets wrong,” he met her eyes again.

“Well I certainly don’t know what you lot say about us behind our backs." She tilted her head, and her own gaze might have dropped to his lips. "So I s'pose you’ll just hafta ask.”

Two very different lines of questioning fought in Sam’s mind: Strictly business and... something else. He did his best to compromise. “Lore makes it seem like you’re always looking for a husband. Like a compulsion. Or do you just wait for someone to show up?”

“I don’t search for a spouse, no. Don't search for anyone,” she answered. “The Lord and the Fates takes me where I needs to be. I find someone what needs me, an' I ease their pain. Their life passes in bliss, an' I move on.”

Still holding her drink, she turned to look back at their table. “'Course I get to have my fun, too, though. I mean, I’ll definitely regret not gettin’ to keep yer brother.”

Sam flinched as if she'd slapped him.

Bris shook her head, either ignoring him or oblivious.  _“God,_ he's clean-on.”

“He— What?”

“Your brother. He's _unfairly_  pretty.”

Sam could only stammer into his drink.

Her wistful smirk dropped into a frown. “Oi now," she tossed her hand, "why's this one givin’ me the boss-eyes?”

He followed her gesture back to Cas, who was definitely glaring at Bris from the table.

“Well, he has excellent hearing,” Sam said, fighting to keep the bitterness from his voice. "He probably just heard what you said about Dean.”

“Oh." Then she drew back, _"Oh._ Lord above, is he glad-eyed for the fine thing?”

“Yeah, I have no idea what you're saying.”

Bris rolled her eyes, dropping her voice a little, *Your boy there, is he sweet on your brother?*

"What?" Sam snapped to face her, “I don't…” he trailed off, not having an answer.

She continued on without him, “Well fuck now, if that's the case then those two need to be havin' a _serious_ chat.”

 _That_ much Sam had known for years. "Tell me about it." 

Bris took a long sip off her drink, “Fuck. I knowed he'd given his heart to another what didn't return the favor, but if it's _that_ one... _Oof._ Looks like I dodged a bullet after all. I would  _not_ wanna be in the middle a' that.”

Sam glanced at the table again, looking between his brother and his best friend.

“Now _you_ on the other hand…” Bris turned back to peer at his chest once more. “That's quite the heart you've got there, Sam.”

“What?” He met her gaze, his pulse racing all over again at the sound of his name on her voice.

Oh— wow— was he really that easy?

“Your heart. It's quite the spectacle there," she raised her chin to look down at it with heavy eyes, "Bright and strong. It's a downright gorgeous thing."

That stopped Sam in his tracks. "Really?"

"Ah— Not that it's  _all_ sunshine and rainbows," she hurried to add, "Been wrapped more times than a bad Christmas present, it has.”

"I— Sorry?”

“You been hurt somethin’ awful, an' not jus' by rejection. That's loss. So much loss. I'm right speechless how you're still standin', much less talkin’ an’ smilin’.”

Sam frowned.

“Well not righ’ now!” she giggled.

Her laugh had Sam wishing he could go back and try his question again, to go back and lead them down some other, smoother path.

Bris must have caught her effect on him. She turned and stood against the bar, leaning back and stretching herself out just a bit more than necessary.

Sam quickly reassembled himself, and opened his mouth to try that new question—

Something caught Bris’s eye by the door. 

 _“Mm.”_ Her expression fell.

“What?” Sam tried to follow her gaze.

“Direl.”

“What?” 

She set her unfinished glass behind her on the bar. “Direl’s here,” she said, and pushed off the counter. 

Sam followed her across the room toward a handsome, dark-haired man, also white, about Dean and Cas's height. 

“Bris!" The man pulled her into a great hug. "Thank God I found you. Thought you'd headed down south!" he said with an accent as thick as hers.

"Well, I did," Bris said, "but then I gots pulled back up."

"Yeah, I can feel that. Knew I'd find at least one a' us 'roud here with a cry that loud." The man, Direl, shifted his gaze up to Sam, then down to his chest with a furrowed brow. “This isn't him, is it?” 

Bris looked back, apparently unaware that Sam had followed her. “Oh, no,” she jerked a thumb over at Dean, who was now on the phone, “it's that one there. Found my coat an' everythin', but that fell through.”

Direl quirked an eyebrow with a low whistle. “You sure knows how to pick ‘em, lassie.”

“You can flatter me later, Direl, what's the craic?"

Any lingering curiosity vanished from Direl's face. "We're gatherin' up again," he said. "They're back."

Bris visibly paled. “They’re back? How?”

“We don't know.” He shifted his gaze up to Sam again, “Ah... maybe we should discuss this somewheres else—”

“No, no, wait, hang on,” Bris lit up, “I've got just what we need. C’mon, I’ll explain over here.” She took Direl’s hand and led them all back to the table.

“...yeah, thanks, we’ll be right there, Sheriff,” Dean finished. He stood from the table, addressing Sam as the group approached, “We're heading out. That was the Sheriff, they just found another empty boat. And a body.”

“Wait,” Bris held up a hand, asking Dean to stay, “I’ll tell ye what’s happenin' here. We need your help.”

Dean hesitated, but he returned to his seat. He eyed Direl as the man pulled a chair over to their table.

“This is Direl, one a' my cousins,” Bris introduced him.

Dean’s glare did not improve.

“Direl, these're Sam, Dean, and Castiel. They’re hunters.”

Direl’s upper lip twitched.

“They ain't like the hunters back home." She placed a hand on his arm. "We’re in Illinois, Direl.”

"We're _what?"_   His disgust dropped in a heartbeat. “Is that one o’ them ones in the middle?”

“Yeah, we’re right near the Great Lakes, there.”

"I  _t_ _old_ Ballo we wasn’t in fuckin’ Canada! _K_ _new_ the water tasted wrong—”

“Hey! Can we get back to the dead guy here?” Dean cut across them. “What’s out there that's got you so scared?”

“It’s the damned afancs,” Bris bared her teeth. “Nasty bastards. Toothy, manky, beavery-lookin’, fuckin’ _demonic_ fuckers.” Sam already had his phone out. “They hate any strangers in their waters. Nevermind it weren't _their_ water to starts with..."

"We thought we did ‘em in, thought we got ‘em all," Direl continued, "but now it's lookin' like we didn’t.”

“Well alright!” Dean said a little too enthusiastically. “How do we find ‘em and how do we kill ‘em?”

"Well— That’s why we needs your help," Bris gave him a look. "You’re the hunters. We thought we knew how to get 'em.”

“And we _can_ help you, now that we know what we’re dealing with,” Sam turned his phone to her, showing her a medieval painting of an afanc. It had the snout of a crocodile, the body of a beaver, and was probably the size of a young grizzly bear. “Does that look right?”

She squinted at the screen, “Looks like they was fluthered when they drew it, but yeah, basically.”

“Great, give me a little time to do some research and we should be able to get a plan together.”

“You do that, Cas and I will go talk to the Sheriff,” Dean decided. He stood from the table, cueing everyone else, “Sam, we’ll drop you off at the motel and one of you—” he gestured between Bris and Direl “—should come with us to confirm this guy was ganked by an afanc.”

“I’ll come,” Direl immediately offered.

“Great. Let’s go.”

———

As they crossed the parking lot toward the car, Direl held Bris back for a moment. 

“So the fine thing set you loose already, huh?”

Bris sighed. “He, ah— He didn’t knowed what he was doin' when he took my coat.”

 _"Mm,"_ Direl eyed Dean greedily. “So if you’re not goin' to, could I…?”

“No, Direl, he’s taken.”

“What? Have ye gone deaf? He's been wailin' up a storm since he got here an' he’s not even picky!”

*Take a gander at that one,* Bris gestured to Cas, lowering her voice.

Cas had turned and was now facing them as the two approached the car.

 _*Och,_ the poor bastard,* Direl lamented quietly, following Bris’s lead. *But what’s that got to do with—?* his eyes widened, *No! Him?*

Bris nodded.

*My stars, do they not know?* he gestured between the two men.

*Seems not. Brother says it’s always been like this, but he didn’t know neither.*

*God, how long? We gots to do somethin'!*

*Don’t seem our place, Direl, not like we’re cupids.*

*Like I give a rat’s arse about _‘place',*_ he hissed. *If them feathery cunts knowed anythin' they’d'a been down here fer them already.* He shook his head in disgust. *Well, if I can’t have the gorgeous bastard, least I can do is help him.*

Bris just rolled her eyes and let Direl lead them over to the car to squeeze into the back seat with Cas.


	7. Chapter 7

As the roar of the Impala faded down the road, Sam opened the motel door for Bris, and entered the room. 

He returned to his laptop, still set up at the little table, while Bris removed her jacket, revealing a tank top underneath and a tattoo of a triquetra, three points tied together with a ring, on her left bicep.

She stretched her toned arms over her head and bounced back onto one of the beds with a contented sigh. Sam tensed as he withheld his reaction, she couldn’t have known that she'd picked his bed, it was just closest to the door... right?

He caught himself staring.

“Would _you_ —” He cleared his throat. “Would you like a drink or something? Unless you had enough at the bar—”

“Goodness, no, I’d love some more,” she said with an easy smile. And oh, would you look at that, another somersault. 

He shook it off and went to check the room's mini-fridge. Huh, Dean really needed to get around to eating this pie...

“Um, all we have is…” he held up a beer, “pisswater.” He hopped he was smiling warmly. 

“That’s fine, Sam,” she laughed.

Damn, she had a nice laugh.

He ducked back down to grab a second one— "Oh, hang on...” and reached further into the back to pull out a flask.

"I guess Dean brought extras," he shrugged.

Sam opened it, sniffed, and frowned. “It’s whiskey, but it’s not good whiskey.”

“I’m sure I’ll enjoy it just the same,” Bris smiled, holding Sam's gaze.  

———

Dean, Cas, and Direl pulled up to the marina, awash in the distinct red and blue of police lights. Dean and Cas flashed their badges, but the officer gatekeeping the scene eyed Direl.

“He’s a consultant, he’s with us,” Dean explained.

She nodded and let them pass.

Cas leaned over to Dean. “This case must be very unnerving for them not to question our 'consultant'.”

“Hit the nail on the head, buddy.”

The three approached the shoreline where Sheriff Campos was standing next to a body as a photographer cataloged the scene.

“Evenin', Sheriff,” Dean said.

Sheriff Campos sighed. “Evening, boys.” She frowned at Direl. “New partner?”

“Consultant. Our other partner is tied up.”

“I’ll bet,” Direl quipped.

Dean scowled at him. He turned back to the Sheriff, “What can you tell us?”

“Well, we found this boat,” she gestured to a little metal fishing boat knocking against the shore in the slight breeze, “same as the others. No passenger. Full of gear. Registered to one Steve Cooper.

“And this,” she gestured to the body currently being photographed, “is one Alan Renny, the owner of the marina. His wife reported him missing about three hours ago and this was the first place we checked.” She shook her head, “I want to say it was a drug deal gone wrong or something, on account of the knife wound, but with the empty boat I’m inclined to connect it to the disappearances.”

“Knife wound? No bite marks?” Dean asked.

“Haven’t seen any yet. Odd thing to be expecting in a kidnapping case,” Sheriff Campos remarked.

“We’ve seen weirder,” Cas said.

Dean failed to hide his smirk.

———

Fresh drinks in hand, Sam did his best to get the night back on track, asking Bris questions from his place at the table behind his laptop’s screen. Between her and his research, he soon learned that afancs were monsters that originated in Wales, their backs were armored with thick scales, and— news to Bris— they could reportedly become invisible in the water.

“Well that explains how some of ‘em made off.”

“Doesn’t look like there’s really a method to ganking them, though,” Sam sighed at his screen. “I found one story about a maiden trapping one on her lap, but… that didn’t exactly end well.”

“Don’t know any human ‘maidens’ to call upon, anyways.”

“Yeah, at least not anyone nearby...” Sam read some more. “Looks like there’s heavy debate on whether they’re actually demonic though.”

“Aye, they’re certifiably awful.”

“No, I mean really demonic, like actually from Hell.”

“Hang on a tick,” Bris sat up straighter on the bed, “are you sayin’ that Hell is real? Hell? Like fire and brimstone? Devils and demons?”

"Well, um... unfortunately, yeah."

Bris crossed her arms with a furrowed brow. "Guess I owe Sister Aelish an apology."

"It's not really fire-and-brimstone-y though," Sam continued, looking back down at his laptop, "more… dungeon-y. But yeah, Heaven and Hell, Angels and Demons, the whole nine yards, it’s all real.”

 _“Ach,_ I already knows about _angels,"_ Bris grimaced. "We're always cleanin' up their messes.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at her, “What do you mean?” 

“The angels, the cupids, they’re always muckin' up people’s hearts, matchin' people what oughtn’t be together for their _disgustin'_ breedin' program. Somethin' about ‘keepin' the holy lines strong’ 'r somewhat." She blanched. "An' what does it get ‘em? Unhappy marriages and sodden hearts.”

She looked down at her hands, tipping the whiskey she was holding in a paper cup.

“...Sometimes those're the hearts what cry the loudest.”

Sam's thoughts leapt to his own parents. _Matched by the Angels,_ that Cupid had said, _very important in Heaven,_ he'd said.

He quickly pushed that thought away, and chose to keep himself in the present.

Unfortunately, the present wanted him to run his mouth.

“You know there’s more than just Cupids, right?”

Bris looked up at him, a little brighter. “Now you’re just coddin' me.”

"No, really," he perked up at her interest, “You didn’t find Cas a bit odd?”

Her jaw dropped. “No way.”

“Yeah, he’s a Seraph.”

_“Really?”_

“Um... Yeah..." Sam breathed, finding himself lost again in her dark eyes flown wide.

He shook his head. "Uh— Yeah. And there’s other kinds, too,” he pushed on, “there's the Archangels, there were Grigori but they're gone, one was some sort of weapons keeper... um... Dean told me he ran into a Rit Zien once…" He coughed. "You know, Heaven is real, too. I've, ah, I’ve been there, a few times, actually. But I always come back! Which you probably guessed... Since I’m here...” he trailed off awkwardly.

Oh, god, now he was babbling. Great, just what he—

"My, my," Bris leaned forward, looking him up and down once more, “but aren't you full of surprises. Do go on.”

Sam blinked. Then took a heavy sip off his share of the whiskey, lamenting that it was already his second for the night.

———

“Could we have a minute to let our consultant look at the victim?” Dean asked the Sheriff.

“Sure thing," she said, "I think Smith here was about done anyway."

They approached the body as Smith the photographer moved on to document the boat.

There was a small pool of blood below the body, evidently from a wound in his chest. Dean crouched down next to the victim and lifted his cut shirt with the end of his pen. He turned back and shared a look with Cas, both silently agreeing with the Sheriff that this looked like a typical stab wound.

“You. C’mere,” Dean motioned to Direl.

Direl crouched down, suddenly very much in Dean’s personal space, and took a look.

“T’aint no afanc attack, tha’s fer sure,” he said, and turned to Dean, gazing at him up through his lashes and causing Dean to flinch back. “Wha'd’you t’ink, boss?”

He was laying heavy on his already thick accent, and it definitely _wasn’t_ turning Dean's stomach in knots. “Um, it looks like— _ahem_ — looks like a knife wound.”

They both stood. Direl was still too close.

“I’m gonna, um, I'm just gonna go text my brother now,” Dean stammered as he stepped back, almost tripping over the body. "Over— uh— over there."

As he walked away, Direl leaned over to Cas. “Jumpy, that one. Is he always like that?”

"No." Cas refused to look at him. “Only sometimes.”

———

Sam jumped as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He offered Bris a quick, apologetic smile, and pulled it out to open a message from Dean. It was a picture of the body, the notably  _intact_ body, with surprisingly little blood. The text came through a moment later:

_This selkie says this isnt an afanc attack. What does Bris think?_

Sam stood and crossed the room to show her the photo. “Dean sent a picture of our vic. What do you think?”

Bris reached up to bring the phone closer to her, placing her hand right over Sam’s.

He hoped she couldn’t hear his heart as well as she could see it.

“Just looks like a stiff,” she said with a shrug. “Far too much of him left for it to be an afanc.”

“Yeah, that’s, um— that’s what they thought too...” Sam went to take his phone back— 

She didn’t let go of his hand.

“What are we dancin' around, Sam?”

His mouth floundered until he could stammer something about not knowing what she was talking about.

“Sam…”

Her gentle tone pulled him right back her gaze, kind, but insistent. Expecting. His heart raced, even as he begged it to slow— he shouldn't do this, he _couldn't_ do this,he was only going to—

"You know what?" Bris said suddenly, letting go of his hand only to tug at his sleeve, “I like this shirt.”

"I— You do?" Sam said with a start, “Um— thank you.”

“But y'know what I think looks best on a man?” She released his sleeve and leaned back from him, placing her hands behind her on the bed. 

“...Confidence.”

 

A beat of hesitation passed between them.

 

Then Sam leapt in headfirst.

———

A text came back from Sam:

_Not an afanc_

Dean turned to tell the others, but another message chimed in:

_Also Kemmerer_

Dean sighed at his phone, shutting his eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Little heavy on the honey, there, Sam," he grumbled.

He started back toward Direl and Cas, but dropped his head and tossed a hand, “Damn it, I can’t even be mad.”

———

When he came, _her_ name was on his lips.

When he rolled off, he held her close, clinging to the bliss she offered. She held him back, if not as tightly.

“I see,” Bris looked up at him from her place in his arms, “so that’s what we were dancin' around.”

“What?” Sam asked, smiling.

Her gaze softened, “Now you need to know I’m not upset, love, just curious, yeah?”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows at the ceiling. “Alright.”

She rubbed her thumb softly across his chest.

“Who’s Eileen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kemmerer is a town out in Wyoming known for their fossils.  
> You could say it’s a … Bone Town *Gabriel eyebrow dance* 
> 
> ...It was Dean’s idea.


	8. Chapter 8

Direl was relentless, brushing up against Dean, knocking knees when they crouched near the boat, using every thinly veiled innuendo known to man and selkie— Dean stalled as long as he could, but after nearly an hour he just couldn’t take it anymore, so he wrapped things up with the Sheriff and decided they could just wait for Sam back at the bar. At least there he could make sure there was a table between them.

The three of them were just coming up to the car and temporary salvation when Dean tripped, “Shit!” and he landed,  _"Oof—"_

—right in Cas’s arms.

Cas squinted at Dean as he stood him back up. “You’re usually more careful,” he said.

“Yeah...” Dean eyed Direl who was now a suspiciously long distance from them. “Hey, take shotgun, okay?”

Cas followed Dean's line of sight, and his eyes narrowed into a dark look of his own. “Of course.”

As soon as they were all in the car, Dean cranked the radio, successfully stymieing any conversation. The drive was blissfully uneventful until, just as they were about to pass the road to the motel, Dean's phone buzzed.

 _All clear,_ Sam's message said.

*Thank god,* Dean mumbled. But he wasn’t about to head back into that motel room until he absolutely had to. _We’ll pick you up,_ he had Cas text back for him.

When he pulled up, Sam and Bris were waiting outside, practically freakin' _snuggling_  on a bench. They didn't get any better as they squeezed into the backseat, either, Sam immediately throwing his arm around her shoulders and her leaning right into it. Oh man, if Sammy thought Dean wouldn't say anything just because there were other people here—

“So we have a stabbing?” Sam asked as soon he shut his door.

 _Bitch,_ Dean pouted. “Yeah, and another empty boat,” he answered as he pulled out of the motel's parking lot. “Doesn’t add up to much, though. Could be a coincidence that the wind blew the boat to where a guy got knifed. You two _crazy kids_  actually find anything on the afancs?”

“Doesn’t look like there’s a method to killing them,” Sam answered with a warning glare, “but they might be attracted to human maidens. And can become invisible in water.”

“Great, so they’re going to be impossible to find,” Dean huffed. Then he perked up, “Actually, we might have something for this.”

They pulled into the parking lot of the bar and piled out, with Dean leading them back to the trunk. Bris and Direl's eyes flew wide as Dean propped the false bottom up and reached in for a small cooler shoved in the back of the trunk.

“Here we go,” he proclaimed as he triumphantly held up a quart mason jar filled with a thick, rusty liquid. “Female virgin’s blood.”

“Do I even wanna ask why you have that? Or _how?”_ said Bris.

“Spells, and you’d be surprised what people will do for $100,” Sam answered.

“Ah.”

“So you want to bait them,” Cas said.

“Yup,” answered Dean, “We'll draw ‘em out onto the shore. Gettin' real sick of this fightin'-’em-in-the-water bullshit.”

“We could call in the family,” offered Bris, “give you some backup in the water.”

“And we’ll scout out a good ambush spot,” Sam agreed. He looked to the selkies, “Um, do you guys have… phones?” 

“No, but we can hear tha’ one’s heart a league away,” Direl answered, pointing at Dean.

Dean's upper lip twitched.

“Then come find us when you’re ready,” Sam said. "We'll set the trap."

With the plan set, Cas and Dean climbed back into the Impala, but Sam hesitated. He dipped forward toward Bris, but caught himself and jerked back. Bris just smirked, though, and she tugged at his shirt to pull him down for a kiss on the cheek.

Direl raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"I'll, ah, I'll see you in a bit," Sam smiled, and he hurried to the passenger door with a little hop and a wave.

Soon the rumble of the engine was fading down the road, and Direl and Bris made their way across the street, heading toward the lake.

It was late, and the town was settling down for the night, but even so, their walk was decidedly too quiet. Bris glanced at her cousin and sighed.

"Alright. Go off."

“I tried _everythin’,_ Bris!” Direl burst, throwing his hands in the air. “I even tripped one into the other’s arms! I got nothin'!  _Nothin'!"_

"I— What?"

"Wha'd'ya mean 'what'? Them two! The gammy eejits what're so obviously gone on each other!"

"I— Right— Yeah. Thought ye was gonna blaggard me fer—" Bris cut herself off. "So what happened with the boys?"

"Christ, ye  _have_ gone deaf. I just said:  _Nothin'!"_ He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at a pebble. "Lord, what I wouldn' give to know what's goin’ on in the posh one's noodle, his heart's just so… banjaxed! Poor thing’s absolutely knackered! An' the other one..." his eyes grew round, "it's just somethin' else, I'll tell ya what. More wounds than light. And the light's the new stuff."

"Well if I'm deaf then you're blind," Bris chided, “There's _obviously_ more to the shit goin' on between them two. Did you _honestly_ think you was gonna affect what’s pro’ly years of unrequited love in an evenin’? You should know better than that.”

“I mean, one night is usually all _I_ need.”

 _"Ach._ _Men,"_ Bris scoffed. "I’ve always loathed your method. _'One night,'_ my arse. Load a' bollocks if ye ask— Wait a tick," she narrowed her eyes at Direl, "what'd you actually _do?”_

“Well I got him all warmed up and then I handed him over.” _Obviously,_ his look said.

“So ye flirted with him,” she asked flatly, "an' then ye _tripped_ him so his friend had to catch him?”

Direl eyed Bris quizzically, “Yeah?”

She dropped her head in her hands.  _“Ach. Men!”_

They reached the lake and stopped. After checking for onlookers, they shuffled in their jackets, each pulling out a gray, spotted coat.

“Look, I’m tellin’ ye, Direl, this one just ain't for us,” said Bris.

“You’re jus' sayin’ that ‘cause he don’t want you.”

“I don’t give two flyin' fucks what that, I already—” she winced and cut herself off again.

"What?"

Bris bit the side of her lip, then drew herself up to meet Direl's eye with a challenging swagger. "'Cause _I_  already had the brother.”

His face split with a grin, “Oi, lassie, up yer bowsy!” he cuffed her on the arm, “I knowed you still got it, old girl!”

She smiled in relief, rubbing her arm. "Feck off, ye knob, I’m only twenty years older'n you.”

They stepped up to the shore, and with a flick of their coats, two seals slid silently into the black water.

 

~*~*~*~

 

It took a few hours to find a suitable place for their ambush. Almost every inch of the lakefront was developed in one way or another, and what was left was just acre after acre of endless cattail marshes. Eventually the boys realized they were going to have to head out to one of the uninhabited islands in the lakes if they were going to find firm ground to attack from, so they “borrowed” a little fishing boat from a lonely pier.

Cas eyed the small metal craft nervously.

“Hey,” Dean put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s gonna be alright, buddy. It’s a short trip, we’ll only be out there a little while.” He said it for himself as much as Cas, hoping that Cas didn’t pick up on it.

The continued strain in Cas’s expression told him he didn’t.

They got their gear loaded, gingerly climbed aboard, and shoved off from the dock. Dean took up the outboard motor in the back and with Sam guiding them by the map on his phone, they headed out for a larger landmass called Crabtree Island that sat right between Fox Lake and Nippersink Lake.

As much as Dean needed to watch where he steered the boat in the dark, he still kept a careful eye on Cas up at the bow of the ship as they crossed the lake. At first, Cas was curled in on himself, clinging to the rim of the boat, flinching with every bounce and jolt of the hull on the waves. But as they picked up speed, he seemed to relax. He sat up a little straighter, looked around a little more. The wind whipped at his hair, mussing it in such a way that reminded Dean of how he used to wear it years ago, wild and unchecked. Dean couldn’t quite see his face, but he was pretty sure he saw a smile spreading— a real one, wide and gummy.

It was so infrequent that Dean got to see Cas really smile that he was tempted to do a loop around the island, just to stretch the moment. But they had a hunt to finish and Sam was here and— Actually, you know what? Sam had gotten his fun earlier. It was Cas’s turn.

Dean tapped Sam on the shoulder, “We’re gonna take the long way!” he shouted into Sam's ear over the rev of the engine.

Sam’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, so Dean pointed at Cas. Sam looked up at him, then back to his brother’s own widening grin. His face softened and he simply nodded, settling in for the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For that one person who cares and even knows what I'm talking about: For the purposes of this fic, Crabtree Island is uninhabited. 
> 
> TOTALLY Random Out-of-Story Fun Tidbit:  
> IRL, my grandpa helped lay the phone lines that run out to the inhabited islands in the Chain o' Lakes. He was also a volunteer fireman for decades, and single-handedly pushed the retirement age at our fire department back five years, because he could still pass all the physical requirements. He's basically the coolest, you know, no big deal. :D


	9. Chapter 9

After a long ride in which Dean definitely didn’t try to jump their little fishing boat over a passing motor-boat’s wake, they pulled ashore at their destination. Crabtree Island was a patch of sandy land between two lakes, overrun with trees and shrubs in the south and choked by cattails in the north. The boys quickly unloaded their bags onto the beach, and began scouting out where they wanted to set their trap.

They found a good place on the west side of the island, where the brush came close to the shore but there was still enough of a gap for a fight. Some nearby fallen trees in the sand made for as good a place as any to set up shop.

Sam set aside the aside the jar of virgin’s blood and the pounds of meat they had picked up at a little grocery store and looked over to where Dean was readying their weapons. “Got enough toys, there?”

“Shut up,” Dean huffed as he pulled a myriad of shotguns and rifles from his second duffel. "You should be _thanking_ me, unless you'd rather be stuck with your pistol for this." He handed two of the large guns up to Sam. “So we've got our spot. All we gotta do now is wait for the selkies to show.”

Cas, with his angel blade lying in his lap, was sitting too stiffly again.

“What’s up, man?” Dean asked as he pulled a box of shotgun slugs from his bag.

Cas didn't answer right away. Finally he said, “I don’t like the male selkie.”

Dean nodded, breaking open the gun in his lap, “Yeah, I get it.”

Cas questioned Dean with a look.

“He makes me uneasy too—”

Cas turned away from him, shoulders slumping. And Dean, with his head ducked to load his gun, didn’t see the new look on his face.

But Sam saw it. It said Dean didn't get it.

“—they’re like a siren in seal skin or something, but we’ll be finished with this hunt soon, alright?” Dean picked up a rifle and clipped it into a sling.

“Right,” Cas said flatly.

Dean turned to him, mouth open to speak, when a noise from the water caught his attention. A seal emerged from the lake, and with a flourish, Bris removed her coat and stood before them.

“Oh, wow,” Sam breathed as she approached.

She bumped into his arm as she joined the group, and eyed the guns surrounding Dean.

 _“Well,_ looks like you lot are set. We got everyone in position now,” she jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “When they come for yer bait we’ll cut off the afancs ‘round the backside. Nasty bastards won’t slip away this time.”

“Great,” Sam smiled.

“Heads up, though, s'not jus' selkies out there. We got our _dobhar-chú_ out on the line, too.”

“Your duhver- _who?”_ asked Dean.

“ _Dobhar-chú_.”

“Yeah I'm just gonna say duhverku.”

“Oh yes, a’course. Heaven forbid you should sully your soft Anglican tongue with the effort of the Irish language."

Dean just sneered, and returned to his weapons.

“I think we're German,” Sam placated.

“You're not,” Cas stated, "you're Anglican. Well," he tipped his head, "Anglo-Saxon, so, perhaps you're both right."

Sam and Dean side-eyed Cas.

“The lineages of the True Vessels are common knowledge,” he said, as though that explained everything.

Sam blinked at him. “You and I are going to talk when we get back to the bunker."

“I... don't even wanna guess what that's all about,” Bris said with an eyebrow cocked. "Point was, the _dobhar-chú "_ she emphasized the pronunciation, “are out there in the lake, so don't go shootin’ the wee beasties. They won’t hurt you if'n you don’t hurt them. They been trained up proper now.”

“Now?” Dean balked. 

“Don't get yer panties in a knot over it,” she looked down her nose at Dean. Then she turned to Sam with a smile, “So's the trap set yet?”

“I was—" Sam cleared his throat. "We were just waiting on you.” He took the supplies in hand and he and Bris stepped over to the shore to set up the bait, leaning into each other's space as they drenched the meat in the virgin's blood.

Dean frowned between his brother and the selkie, jaw clenching.

He leaned over to Cas and said, not quietly at all, “Weirdest thing we’ve done in a while, working with monsters to hunt monsters.”

Bris spun back. 

“I beg yer pardon,” she said, low and dangerous.

Dean stared her down.

She stood, drawing herself up to her full height, and stared right back. “I am _not_ a monster.”

“Oh, really? So kidnapping people doesn’t count?”

She flinched back. “I ain't  _kidnapped_ anyone!”

“Dean, c’mon, right now—?” Sam started.

“Oh, sure, of course you’re on her side.”

“I’m not on a _side,_ Dean, can’t this just wait until after we're finished?”

Dean didn't answer him. “We know where all the missing women are," he stood from his log and jabbed a finger at Bris,  _"you’ve_ been taking them!”

“I— We don’t  _take_ people!” she seethed. "We’re not _vampires_ or— or _werewolves!_ We don't hurt people!”

“Right, 'cause tricking poor schmucks, using your... _siren call_ to steal 'em right out from their lives isn't—”

Bris strode right up to Dean, causing Dean to fall back a step against the log, “You think I tried to _trick_ you?" she growled up in his face, "I didn't do a _thing_ to you. You called _me,_ boy. You are _so_ empty, you are _so_ wantin’, that you called a bein’ to you that wants nothin’ but to help ye fill tha' void in yer heart. _Your_ pain aligned the Fates!  _Your_ choices brought us to this! I didn't pull you in, _you_ called out to _me_. When people are so unhappy they're fit to burst of it, it's a siren song for _me._ I’m not a fuckin' monster. I'm a part of this puzzle, I'm a part of this Web of Life the Lord has spun for us here."

She backed off a step, “All I ever did was offer a hand. And when you chose not to accept my help, I damn well respected that. _No_ selkie would _ever_ bond to someone what didn’t want it.” 

She turned on her heel, her long hair flaring around her, and strode to an open duffel to snatch out a silver dagger. “Now if you're quite done bein' an _absolute_ gobshite you’ll kindly get off that high horse a’ yours and help us take out the bastards what’s killin' people in our lake!”

She marched off to take up a position in the treeline, leaving the three uniquely stunned men to gather themselves and follow in her wake.

 

———

 

Crouched down a few feet back in the dense underbrush, the four of them watched the lake and waited. In the far distance they could see the dark forms of the other selkies in the moonlight, silently slipping through the water, just barely breaking the surface for air. The night was still. The water was calm. The barest hint of an overdue winter chill picked at their jackets.

Fortunately, their wait wasn't too long. Soon enough the water began to stir with new disturbances. Wide ripples appeared about thirty yards out, and slowly rolled up to shore.

One by one, three huge forms climbed out of the lake. The dark, hairy creatures plodded from the water, clumsy on their stout, webbed limbs. Their flat tails dragged lazily behind them as their disturbingly long, toothy snouts sniffed at the air. Apparently satisfied, they approached the waiting pile of meat with only mild hesitation.

Then, just as Dean was about to give the signal to attack, a man materialized some twenty feet away from the creatures, wielding an oddly large gun.

“Demon!” Cas rasped in a stage-whisper, and leapt out to intercept him.

“Shit, now!” Dean ordered.

With one precise swing of his blade, Cas sliced the demon’s hamstring and it collapsed with a howling scream.

The rest of them rushed the monsters. Sam immediately took aim and landed a slug in one afanc’s shoulder. Bris charged the group and got a slice across the flank of another. The one Dean initially aimed at was spooked by the cries of its companions and took off up the beach.

Cas grabbed the demon from the ground and hauled it up by the front of its shirt. The demon thrashed against his hold, but to no avail as Cas spared a glance at the fight behind him. Eyes hardening, he whirled and slammed the demon against a tree, plunging his blade through its shoulder to pin it there. The demon cried out, struggling against the blade, but it was trapped.

Cas sprinted back toward the duffels for another blade, and made it within a few feet away from them when the runaway afanc slammed into him. The impact threw him, landing him on his back, but he leapt right up to face the monster down.

Dean heard Cas’s grunt and turned just in time to see him jump back up. His heart raced, he took a step toward them—

_I told you they couldn't kill me!_

Dean stopped. He turned back to the other afancs. Cas was fine on his own.

Sam pivoted from his wounded monster. He took aim at the afanc Bris was fighting and fired another shot. It glanced off the monster’s armored back.

 _“Oi!_ I’m fine! Worry about yours!” she shouted.

The other one Sam had first shot had gotten back to its feet. Sam flipped back as it charged at him and just barely managed to jump out of the way.

Cas faced his monster down. Both breathing heavily, each sizing each other up.

Cas lunged first, intending to clamp its jaws shut and break its neck, but the monster swiped at him with a clawed, webbed paw, knocking him back to the ground and tearing through his coats. Cas landed heavily on his side, but was quickly up again, pained but still functional.

Dean saw that he would never run down the afanc now fleeing from Sam, so he snatched up the rifle slung at his side and took aim as Sam chased it. He fired, hitting its hindquarters, blood spraying the sand. It tripped and collapsed, tumbling over itself.

From behind him came a gut-wrenching cry of pain.

Dean spun back around to see the afanc with its jaws latched around Cas’s torso. One shake of its head and it slammed him to the ground with a terrible thud. Cas managed to sit up and punched it in the jaw, but that hardly moved the beast. With a snarl the afanc raised up on its hind legs and dropped onto Cas, one foreleg pinning his arm and the other digging into his stomach. His white shirt, already red with blood, darkened further.

_So, what? You wanted me to wait patiently while they tore you to shreds?!_

_Yes!_

Bris leapt at her afanc with a frenzied scream, aiming to plunge her dagger into its neck, but the creature dodged and knocked her with its snout. She fell, "Fuck!" but quickly jumped back to her feet.

Dean heard her. He spun again and fired, hitting the afanc in the side. It roared in pain and took off for the water.

“ _Oi!_ Hump _off!_ Watch yer own!” Bris shouted. She helplessly watched the afanc crash back into the lake, and took off to help Sam. His monster had gotten up and was still making a break for it. Dean took a step to follow—

Another shout from behind. Cas had his free arm at the monster’s neck, but its claws were digging into his other. Blood flowed into the sand.

_I couldn’t just stand there!_

_Yes you could! … I’m an angel, Dean!_

Sam stopped and fired at his afanc. The slug hit, and again the monster fell, and again it got up. Finally, it turned to face Sam.

He fired again, hitting its shoulder. It roared and charged him, desperate and crazed. Sam fired again, and still it bore down. He fired again, and still it came for him. Thirty feet away— _BAM_ _—_ twenty— _BAM_ — ten—

Bris leapt up from somewhere behind him and thrust her dagger up into the monster’s jaw. It slammed into them, bowling both of them over. They landed underneath it where it was finally still. Dead.

Dean was frozen as Cas's hand slipped from the monster. The afanc lunged, but Cas managed to land another punch near its eye. 

_I’m an angel, Dean!_

_...don’t hurt yourself over me._

The monster roared and swiped at Cas, catching him across the face, snapping his head to the side.

_I’m an angel, Dean!_

_Cas pulled back from the embrace... A smile fought at the corners of his mouth._  

The afanc's paw dragged over his chest. Cas screamed as the claws cut deep into his flesh.

_I’m an angel, Dean!_

_A pyre, burning against the dawn._

Long yellow teeth flashed in the moonlight as the afanc reared its head to tear at Cas again.

_I'm an angel, Dea—!_

“ _THAT DOESN’T MATTER!"_

Dean charged the afanc and tackled it, slamming into its side, and it tumbled off of Cas to the ground. Dean landed on top of it and pushed himself up, straddling the monster. It swiped at him, catching his shoulder. His growl of pain rose into a roar of fury as he reared back and slammed the butt of his shotgun into its jaw, once— twice— In a whirl he spun the gun and fired a slug into its skull.

The muzzle flashed. The monster jolted. And the body stilled beneath him.

Dean shoved himself off the afanc, allowing his gun to fall beside him. He dropped to his knees at Cas’s side, his hands reaching out to cradle his bloody face, “Hey, Cas, _hey..."_

Across the beach, Sam and Bris managed to push their monster off of them, but just barely. They scrambled to their feet, and Bris yanked her dagger back from the dead afanc while Sam snatched up his shotgun. Seeing that the other afanc was also dead, they ran back to the shoreline after the last one.

They found the water roiling in the moonlight. Smooth, dark shapes of various sizes were slipping and twisting around each other. Growls and squeals and whistles and shrieks reached them on the shore.

There was a great thrashing at the surface. Bris and Sam tensed, ready to jump in.

Then it was silent.

Cas coughed and tried to sit up, and Dean hurried to put a hand on his back to help him. Through the tattered shreds of Cas's clothes, Dean saw that his shallowest wounds were already starting to close, but the deep ones were still bleeding profusely.

“Shit.” He tried to use his other hand to put pressure on the worst ones.

Cas looked up at him, one eye swollen shut and the other fruitlessly blinking against the blood running into it. He glanced down, saw the gouge in Dean’s shoulder, and raised a hand to it.

“Hey,” Dean snatched his wrist. Cas met his gaze again. “That can wait.”

His eye narrowed, “Dean—”

“It can wait a minute. Focus on yourself.”

“You’re hurt—!”

“I already told you, you asshole," Dean glared at him, "you’re worth hurting over."

Cas's mouth hung open, but no words came. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, he looked like he might protest again, but instead he took a deep, rattling breath and closed his eyes.

Dean slid the hand at his back around his shoulder and pulled him in. Cas tensed, but slowly, he relaxed against him, an arm coming around Dean’s side to return the embrace. The glow of his grace built slowly, bathing the both of them in the blue light spilling from his wounds.

Then Cas pulled back, and before Dean could stop him again he placed his hand over Dean’s shoulder to heal it.

“I still wish you wouldn't do this,” Cas grumbled.

Dean looked down at him, now clean and unmarred. “Well you better get used to it. I'm a— what did you say?” He dropped his voice, bottoming-out in a terrible imitation, “—I'm an emotional being with pack-bonding issues.”

The corner of Cas's lips rose at it. “I didn't say it was an issue.”

Dean just shrugged. “You might as well have.”

Cas’s smile faltered.

Dean rose from his knees and stood, holding a hand out to Cas. He readily took it, Dean pulled him up, and the two of them took stock of the beach together. Two of the afancs lay dead on the ground and Sam and Bris were standing at the shoreline. Dean picked up his gun, Cas retrieved a spare angel blade from the duffels, and they crossed the sand toward them.

The water before Sam and Bris rippled with motion. A crowd of seals broke the surface and charged the shore, leaping from the water one after the other, removing their coats midair, and landing in the sand. The selkies whooped and hollered and ran to embrace each other in triumphant euphoria. More selkies steadily climbed out behind them, their coats previously removed, dragging the hulking body of the slain afanc between them. They threw it to the ground before them where it landed in the sand with a dense, wet thud. Its throat was ripped out.

“Damn, I love having backup,” Sam said as Dean and Cas reached them.

Then the lake stirred once more, and from behind the raucous group of people, much larger shapes followed them ashore.

They slipped seamlessly from the water to the sand, their long bodies seeming to never end. The humongous creatures— at _least_ five feet at the shoulder— sniffed at the air, their wide, toothy maws splitting with quiet chirps and grunts. Another sound, imperceptibly low, rumbled through Sam and Dean’s chests, a thing they could feel, but not hear. The smooth, furred creatures slunk toward the afanc carcasses, their long bodies lithely sliding between the celebrating selkies.

Dean jumped with a shout and landed against Cas. Seemingly from nowhere, one of the creatures had approached and made to sniff at him, a large, wet nose nudging at his hand. It huffed and snuffled, its breath hanging heavy with the scent of pond sludge and blood.

“Bhean, _dún!”_ a booming voice commanded.

Dean stood, rooted to the spot, as the enormous creature froze with a whine and  _shyly_ backed off.

An older white man approached them, tall and proud. In the moonlight Dean caught his chiseled, lined features and his striking salt-and-pepper hair.

“How are ye, friends,” he greeted them, his accent particularly thick. He extended a hand for to Dean shake, “I'm Ballo.” 

“Hey. Dean,” he answered. As he shook the offered hand, his focus was torn between the man’s surprisingly strong grip and keeping track of each huge creature.

“Can’t thank you enough for helpin' us out here,” Ballo said, his deep, rolling voice rumbling through Dean's chest as much as the creatures' did.

“Yeah, um, no problem,” Dean fumbled. One of the creatures lunged at a carcass and Dean flinched, the arm still holding his gun jerked.

“Never seen a _dobhar-chú_ before, eh?” Ballo chuckled. “Aye, they’re a mite intimidating the first time, I’ll bet!” He winked at Dean.

“Ballo, don’t tease the poor lad,” a woman in the group chided.

The _dobhar-chú_ tore an entire leg off the carcass as Ballo flashed an unfairly charming smile.

“Yeah, uh, intimidating,” Dean nodded.

Ballo laughed, a round, bouncing thing that warmed Dean from the inside. He stepped forward and clapped Dean on the shoulder, “Well I'll just thank ye again,” he said, “now my family can rest easy.”

“Yeah, no problem," Dean breathed. He cleared his throat, "You're welcome.”

“Those creatures,” Cas said. Dean whipped around at his voice. “Dean, the maulings.”

That fully snapped Dean back to the present, “Shit, you’re right, Cas.”

Dean pulled himself together and locked Ballo’s gaze. “Giant and furry, the size of cars? I’ll give you _one chance_ to answer me straight,” he steeled himself and pointed at a creature, ”those things been attacking people?”

Ballo laughed again, brash and loud, and Dean faltered slightly. “I like your moxie, lad!” He sighed and squared his shoulders, considering Dean seriously. ”Aye, we had a few incidents early on, but they’re well-behaved now, won’t be hurtin’ another soul.”

Sam put a hand on his older brother's shoulder. “Dean, it’s been a month since the last report of a mauling,” he pleaded.

Dean glanced from Sam's hand to the selkies. He sized up the large group before him, a group that had evidently just taken down an afanc with nothing but their teeth.

“Alright,” he nodded. “But one slip-up, and we’ll be back, you understand?”

Ballo laughed again, his eyes twinkling, “Oh, yessir, a’course, sir.” He gave Dean a mock-salute.

“I mean it.”

Ballo just smirked. “ _Slán_ , Dean the Hunter.” He strode away from Dean back to his family, raising his arms before he boomed:

“I believe a _celebration_ is in order!”

A riotous cheer rose from the crowd. “I’ll get the beer!” “Fuck tha’, get us some whiskey!” “Let’s roast these bastards!”

With no semblance of organization that Dean could recognize, several selkies crashed into the underbrush, some rushed the carcasses, and still others donned their coats and dove back into the water, presumably for a late-night liquor run.

As one passed him, Sam caught a selkie’s attention to suggest, “Hey, um, you’re gonna want to keep that fire pretty far inland, otherwise the cops will come to break up the party.”

The selkie smiled, “Aye, thanks, mate!” and continued into the woods.

As the four of them returned to the duffel bags, Dean kept a close eye on the _dobhar-chú_ , now tussling over the afanc leg. Tussling quietly. Far more quietly than anything that size had a right to be.

Sam seemed unfazed by them, watching them with a fascinated curiosity as opposed to Dean's uncomfortable hesitancy.

Bris couldn't seem to contain the smug look on her face, “Takin’ a shine to our pets there, are you?” she chided Dean.

Dean’s eyes shot wide as saucers, “You keep those things as _pets?”_

“Aye, they're lovely things,” Bris smiled devilishly. ”You should try ridin’ one sometime,” she said with a wink.

“Yeah, how about absolutely not.” Dean picked up his two bags.

Cas grabbed another duffel and they left down the beach together, heading over to the demon still pinned and struggling on the tree.

“We’ve got to take care of that,” Sam jerked his head at the demon. He carefully reached out and took Bris’s hand, “but... would you meet me back at the car? I’d, um, I'd like to say goodbye properly.”

“Sure thing, love,” she kissed his hand. “See you in a tick."

Sam rummaged for the Enochian handcuffs, hefted the last bag onto his shoulder, and followed Cas and Dean.

 

———

 

The demon, struggling and sputtering the whole way, was loaded into the bottom of the boat with their supplies. Cas was about to take the middle seat, intending to restrain it, when Sam placed a hand on his arm and said, “You take the bow again, Cas, I’ve got him.”

The corner of Cas’s mouth twitched up in gratitude, “Thank you, Sam,” and he took his spot at the bow. Dean shoved the boat off the beach, stared the motor, and pointed them back to the shore.

As the boat climbed onto a plane, Dean watched Cas once again. His own face cracked in a grin as another of those great smiles crept across Cas’s. It grew wider and wider as the boat sped faster and faster, reaching a peak of blindingly broad joy. They reached their top speed, the boat leveled off, and Cas closed his eyes, his expression softening into what Dean could only describe as contentment.

And Dean ached from it. It cut him deep that seeing Cas like this—simply happy—was shocking to him.

The sun was just rising, the sky barely lit. A faint fog had gathered, and the clean smell of dawn over the water filled their lungs.

Then, with a shift in the clouds, the morning light broke over the treeline, cutting through the haze to land upon Cas, and Dean’s heart stopped, his hand almost slipped from the motor.

The shadows slowly stretched over Cas’s shoulders. They pushed out, so wide, so vast that Dean thought they would never end. They found their zenith and reached like fingers, grasping for every inch of wind they could capture. The godsrays streaking through the swirling mists filled the gaps between rough feathers as they fluttered and shook with the rush of the cool morning air.

If he didn’t know, if he couldn’t feel the vibrations of the outboard motor and the jolting bounce of the waves, Dean would have sworn they were a mile off the ground, cutting through cotton clouds instead of fog. His heart soared, regardless.

Because this moment, right now, this was going to stick with Dean for the rest of his life.

That other image— seared into Dean’s mind on that beach in Washington— finally faded some, finally was pushed aside by this:

Castiel, Angel of the Lord, feeling the wind in his wings for the first time in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my husband, the best editor-with-benefits in the world. The only reason you are getting any semblance of proper gun jargon and dialogue that is about 20% less awkward, is because of him. So three cheers for my supportive hubby/editor!
> 
> ~*~*~*~
> 
> Infrasounds - Fascinating noises some animals make that are so low in frequency that we (humans) can’t hear them. Cas probably can. Particularly famous in elephants, but many animals make them. It’s just a function of our ears not evolving to hear these low sounds. They can carry for miles, because (on account of something-something-physics that I don’t understand) the sounds can pass through many solid objects like trees uninhibited. 
> 
> The world is an infinitely fascinating place, my friends.


	10. Chapter 10

The infuriatingly small gas tank and the struggling demon in the bottom of the boat forced Dean back to reality far too soon. He swore to himself that he'd get Cas back out on a boat as soon as possible. Or maybe find a convertible. Or maybe a motorcycle? Or... skydiving? What— no! No way. No fucking way, why did he even think of that?

But for Cas...?

“Hey, Dean?”

Sam’s voice jerked Dean back again.

“Hey, yeah, sorry.” Dean stepped out of the boat onto the pier. He tucked a twenty dollar bill in a crevice for the owner and pulled their last bag out of the boat.

They had just gotten the demon tucked away in the trunk and were inspecting the large gun that it had been wielding when a seal emerged on shore. With a notably smaller flourish than before, Bris once again stood before them.

Sam left the car first to meet her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she smiled. “Hey-ah, did somethin’ happen out on that boat?” she peered around Sam at Cas and Dean, who had tossed the demon’s gun in the backseat and were now making their way over to them.

“No, not really, just had to hold onto the demon. Why?”

“Well I’ll tell ya, it takes a hell of a lot to cut my family’s holy show, but _somethin’_ came out over that water an’ we all just…” she trailed off, her eyes wide. “It were intense.”

Dean and Cas caught up to join them.

“Thank you fer helpin' us,” Bris addressed the three of them.

“Thanks for the backup,” Dean answered stiffly. “You were, uh, pretty good on that beach there.”

Bris looked Dean up and down. “Thanks,” she clipped, picking up on his tone.

Dean sighed. “Bris, look. Y'all gotta lay off… _helping_ people around here. I mean, at the very least you gotta start spreading it out.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Not all hunters around here are like us,” Sam put his hand on her arm. “They won’t ask as many questions before coming for you.”

“They’re not all as… understanding,” Cas said, nodding knowingly to her.

She looked like she was about to protest, mouth opening and brow furrowed, but she took a breath, and she relaxed, and she said, “Aye. S'pose we should be used to that. I’ll… I’ll tell the family.”

“It’s just to keep you safe,” Sam assured her.

“No, no, I understand,” she sighed, tipping her head back to the sky. “This ain't the Isles. This ain’t no little fishin' village. We was actin' the maggot runnin' wild like that... Maybe we jus' got a little bollocksed on the freedom.” She smiled. “We had our craic, but now we gotta kick the bevvies and sober up.”

Dean raised an eyebrow.  _“...Yeah._ I'm just gonna assume you agreed with us." He clapped Sam on the back, “We’ll leave soon here, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Sam answered.

Dean and Cas left to wait at the car, their voices trailing off as they went: "Can't understand a damn thing she says.” “Irish is a wonderfully colorful dialect, Dean, she said…”

Sam ran a hand through his hair, shuffling and shifting his weight, “Hey, um—”

Bris cut him off, pulling him down by the shirt for a kiss; small, almost chaste.

“I’ll miss you, Sam," she said against his lips.

“Yeah, I’ll... I’ll miss you, too,” he said as he stood again. His hand came to rest on her arm, slipping down to take her hand. “You know, I'm, um... I'm going to figure out a plan to get you and your family home.”

“You will?” She gripped his hand back. “I— Well I thought you’d be done with us, now you found all your monsters.”

“This isn't finished, not for me, not until you and your family are safe.”

"Sam..." she ducked her head, blinking her eyes.

“It might take a while to get something together,” he continued. “If we can't get you all passports and visas we might have to... maybe arrange some kind of sea voyage. And if that doesn’t work, um...” He pulled himself back, lost for a moment in planning. "But once we've taken care of this demon, find out what it was here for, I'm going to come back. I'm going to help you.”

“You'd really come all the way back here for us? Ye ain't too busy mitchin’ with the angels up in Heaven?” she teased, but the question was sincere.

“There is something else going on,” he admitted, “but it's not Heaven, it's— ah— it's something else. But it's not… We don't have anything to go on right now. We've got no clues, no plan." He stopped with a frown. "This though,” he squeezed her hand, “this is solid. There's something to hold onto here, something I can do. Someone to help,” he looked up from her hands.

She pulled him down for another kiss, a little longer, a little more behind it.

They parted, and his gaze lingered, searching her face.

She read him like a book, “There's somethin’ else, isn't there?”

“No. No, it's nothing.”

“C’mon, love, you gots somethin' else to say.”

“Well, I— Um— Well, it's more of a question,” Sam bumbled. “It's kind of— It's silly. Crazy.” His eyes shifted, looking anywhere but her, “I mean, I don’t want to be rude, or insulting—”

“But?”

 _“But..._  I… god, it's been one night but I already feel— I mean, I don't feel— I mean— I guess I’m more curious than anything—” he snapped up, “not that I’m _just_ curious—!”

 _“Sam,”_ she smiled, tugging his hand, “you’re dancin' again.”

He flashed a quick grin, “Sorry,” but he still couldn’t force the question out.

She put a hand to his cheek, asking him to meet her eyes again. He leaned into her gentle warmth, allowing it to bolster him. 

He stood a little straighter, and asked what he wanted to know. “Were you going to offer your coat to me?”

Her shoulders fell along with her smile, and her eyes dropped to his chest, “Oh. Sam…” The hand at his cheek tensed, and Sam realized she must have been expecting this question, perhaps even dreading it.

“I’m not gonna make you happy, Sam," she sighed. "I can be a great memory, but…” her eyes rose to his, “I’m not gonna bring her back. I can’t be what she was for you.”

His stomach dropped to the floor. “Oh. God—” Sam ducked his head, “Shit, I—”

"It's okay, Sam," her hand followed his face, “I told you, it’s okay.”

“How is that okay?”

“I just understand,” she said. “I told you, I’m not upset.”

“At least that’s one of us.” He laughed dryly. “God, I really should have seen this coming, huh?" He tried to smile, but there was nothing behind it. "No such thing as a selkie myth with a good ending, right?”

 _“Och,_ Sam,” she moved her hand to cup his jaw and raised his face to meet hers again, “those are just the stories that get passed down. No one tells the tale of their sappy ol' nan and pa who fell head over heels and lived happily ever after.”

Sam blinked and furrowed his brow. “I thought you didn’t know what we said about you behind your back?”

She rolled her eyes. “Had to get the ball rollin’ _somehow,_ love. Yer not the only cute hoor around here, ye know.”

A short breath punched out of him, and he found himself searching her eyes. It was the way she was smiling at that, sparkling and knowing and just a little bit sad... it offered Sam a piece of hope, and he reached out, and he grasped it tight.

He hopped on the spot and stepped away, “Wait here just a minute.”

Sam ran back to the Impala, throwing open the passenger door and rooting around the glove compartment for a napkin and a pen. 

Dean quirked an eyebrow at him through the open window, “We gonna leave today or should I get another night at the motel?”

“Shut up.” 

“No, I’m serious, Sam.”

Sam stopped and looked up at his brother.

“What? I’ve got eyes. Nobody takes twenty minutes to say goodbye to a one-night stand.”

Sam glanced back at Bris. “No, we’ll leave today. Just give me another minute.”

“Sure, man.”

Sam jotted something on the napkin and jogged back to Bris.

“Here,” he said as he handed it over.

“What's this?”

“My phone number. Well, phone numbers. If you or your family needs us, you can reach us there. Or, you know," he shrugged, "you can just call if you want to.”

She scrutinized the paper. “I don't have a phone.”

“I could get you one,” he answered too quickly.

“That’s alright, Sam, I'll just—I'll figure it out if we needs to call you.”

“Or want to.”

She gave him half a smile, “Right.”

That hung heavily in the air.

“I’m still gonna come back,” Sam said. “I’ll still help you and your family.”

Bris's real smile returned, but the sparkle from before didn't join it. “I look forward to it.”

She stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. “Goodbye, Sam,” she sighed.

He returned the hug, holding her tight, and allowed himself to put a hand in her hair, “Goodbye, Bris.”

Maybe they held the embrace a little too long, maybe it was just Sam willing time to slow for him, but either way neither of them seemed to mind. When they parted, it was with sad smiles and a wave. Only a minute later, the Impala was cresting the hill.

Bris watched until they disappeared from sight.

“Boy, how about some music, huh?” Dean said a little too loudly. “Ten hour drive ahead of us and we’ll only have good stations for about three of ‘em.”

He flipped the radio on and found a channel. “Hey, that's what I'm talkin’ about!”

“— _babe, baby, baby,  
__I don't wanna leave you,  
__I ain't jokin,' woman, I got to ramble_ …”

Sam barely stifled a groan.

Dean grimaced without it, “Shit, sorry. I'll find something else—”

“No, Dean, it's fine,” Sam said, waving off his hand going for the dial.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, man, just— I'm fine. Not going to ask you to ditch Zeppelin. Just enjoy the song.”

Dean shot him a grateful smile and settled back in his seat.

Sam watched Dean drum along on the steering wheel, singing under his breath and beaming at the sunlit road. He sat back himself, glad to let his brother continue riding whatever high he had going even if it meant sitting through—

 _"And that was Led Zeppelin’s ‘Baby I'm Gonna Leave You’,”_ the overly-dramatic DJ announced, _"More of your classic rock comin’ up next, on 103.9, The Fox! “_

“Oh you have _got_ to be kidding me!” Dean shouted as Sam snorted and Cas tipped his head at them from the back seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But wait! There's more! Don't miss the bonus scenes and art in the next chapters! :)


	11. Bonus Scene

Bonus Scene: 

 

Sam sat down at the kitchen table, his morning coffee in hand, and opened the lid of his laptop for his daily scan of the news. Sure, there was a demon waiting to be interrogated today, but it couldn't hurt to jot down anything weird.

An article summary out of Illinois caught his eye:

 **Island Burns Mysteriously** \- FOX LAKE - Brush on Crabtree Island in Nippersink Lake disappears overnight. Lake County Forest Preserve District (LCFPD) confused but thrilled: “Don't know how anyone could cut so much in one night!" one ecologist told the Northwest Herald, "It was going to cost a lot of money to remove all those invasive shrubs, but it looks like the fire escaped from their brush pile, and we basically got a free prescribed burn out of it!”

Sam couldn't help but smile.


	12. Bonus Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas texts Claire after the hunt

Cas: We're back from the hunt. Everyone is safe. :)

 **Claire** : Thanks for checking in :/

Cas: Why did you use that emoticon? Do you not want to know we're safe? :(

Claire is typing…

[pause]

Claire is typing…

 **Claire** : No of course I do

 **Claire** : How did it go?

Cas: Are you safe?

 **Claire** : You know it. Hunting werewolves again. There's a lot up here lately

 **Claire** : How'd the hunt go?

Cas: We found all our monsters. It was a "doozy." Have you heard the legend of The Great Leeches of Tlanusi’yi?

 **Claire** : Leeches!? Cool! You gotta tell me that one later

Cas: That was actually the boring part. I did get to eviscerate the corpses though.

 **Claire** : The *Great Leeches* were BORING?? What the heck else were you hunting?

Cas: It turned out to be afancs. They are very dangerous. You should never hunt them alone.

 **Claire** : PSH bet I could handle em

Cas: Claire, I am serious. They were very strong. Dean had to come to my aid. :O

 **Claire** : Shit really? Okay, okay, team effort on afancs

 

“Hey!”

Dean's shout drew Cas’s attention from his phone.

“You won't get nothin’ outta me!” the demon shouted as it struggled against Sam and Dean's hold. He was surprisingly… wriggly in his bid to escape.

Cas pocketed his phone and left his spot leaning against the wall. He took the demon by the scruff, pulling him easily a foot off of the floor.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean breathed, rubbing where the demon had elbowed him in the ribs. "Can you just take him to the dungeon?”

“Of course.”

The demon continued to struggle, but within a few minutes it was secured to the chair in the dungeon.

“Fuck it, let's just let him stew overnight,” Dean said, watching the demon continue to strain against its chains.

“Fine by me, I'm going to bed,” Sam said as he closed the door.

Cas wandered to the library where he found a seat he'd probably spend the night in. He pulled his phone back out.

 

Cas: Sorry. We have a demon captive and it needed to be restrained. >:(  Have you heard of selkies? We found a colony.

 **Claire** : what the heck? A demon, leeches, afancs, AND selkies? No wonder you hardly talked to me all week

 **Claire** : Are those the mermaid-y monsters who always die?

Cas: That… isn't accurate. They are people who can see other's hearts, who transition from a human form to a seal form with their coat.

Cas: Dean married one, actually.

[pause]

Claire is typing…

 **Claire** : Um, congrats?

 **Claire** : Are you ok?

Cas: You don't need to congratulate them, they divorced quickly.

Cas: Yes, I already told you we all came back safe. :)

 **Claire** : Oh! Good! Yeah, nevermind

Cas: That selkie actually seems to like Sam more now.

 **Claire** : Oh yeah?

Cas: Yes, they were displaying a lot of affection.

 **Claire** : Hey, good for him

Cas: Perhaps. I'm not sure. He was very upset on the ride back. :(

 **Claire** : Yeah I bet. You guys were all the way over in like Chicago right?

Cas: I don't think it's the distance. It seemed different. Sadder.

 **Claire** : Oh… Did they break up instead of long distancing?

Cas: Your guess is as good as mine. He didn't want to speak about it on the way home.

 **Claire** : God what's new right? How do you put up with those two?

 **Claire** : Hey my sheriff just called back. I'm heading out, ttyl

Cas: Ok. Be safe.

 **Claire** : Yeah, yeah, I will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! Thank you so much for reading!  
> If you enjoyed this story, I’d like to take this moment to politely ask you to please [share it](https://archiveofourown.org/series/987315) if you could. This story took a long time to craft, over a month now, and I’d love for as many people as possible to be able to see it! Again, thank you so much for reading, can’t wait to see you again at Part Two!  
> If you have a question or you just want to chat, I happily take messages on @sassysousa on Tumblr, or of course you can drop a comment here! I would love to discuss and debate Things and share interpretations of our show or just shoot the shit with you! The world and the people in it are infinitely fascinating and I want to hear your perspectives. :)  
> *Update* I made a side-blog for this story! Links and meta and pics and notes from me. @a-change-is-gonna-come-fic


	13. A Crack Comic and Fanart!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I made a little crack comic for the middle of Ch 9 after Bris's big speech (disclaimer, I am a writer not an artist) and UnfortunatelyObsessed created fanart of Bris that I love and had to share!

.

.

By [UnfortunatelyObsessed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnfortunatelyObsessed)   
Go check out her works, she writes amazing fic too! I can't recommend My Bloody Valentine enough! An artist AND a writer! So envious.  
Also @crack--attack on Tumblr

[Threshie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshie) decided upon seeing this art that Bris has a build like Sigourney Weaver as Ripley in Aliens, but with long hair, and I wholeheartedly agree. :)


End file.
